


The Hobbit: Thorin, no!

by Elderflower



Series: What difference can one person make? [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angry dwarves are angry, Blood and Gore, Emotions, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, Oh for the love of sweetness, PJ-style Battles, Serious Injuries, So much fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:44:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 52,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5740687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elderflower/pseuds/Elderflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what happens when you let wizards get ideas into your head.<br/>Thorin and (most of) his company are left gormless and helpless in the Mountain as Smaug flies off to destroy Lake-town. We all know how that ends, but afterwards things start to get a whole lot more complicated.<br/>So far we have a mad king, a reluctant king and a cunning king, put them all together...even Gandalf can't seem to handle it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dragon-fire and Ruin

**Author's Note:**

> So here we go lads, the final Hobbit installment!

_ Vana _

“What do you see?” Fíli called from inside the house.   
“Golden rain!” I shouted back.   
“Golden rain?”   
“Yes, believe me, it’s much stranger to see.” I watched with a frown as the gold cloud descended beneath the shadow of the mountain, growing paler as it dissolved into the fog swirling around the lake with an eerie calmness. Within seconds, Tauriel had appeared behind me.   
“Can you see anything?” I asked, looking up at her. She peered into the distance, her eyes growing wider with the fear that her face masked.   
“The dragon is coming,” she whispered, so I almost didn’t hear. _It’s happened. The worst has happened._ The thought of the rest of our company being in that mountain made me swallow hard.   
“How – how close is he? How long do we have?”   
“Not long.”   
“We need to raise the alarm.” I stated and we exchanged a glance before I ran to the other side of the balcony. I saw a few people across the docks standing in their nightclothes looking up at the two of us – the unusually tiny human and the Elf-soldier – in confusion and at the molten gold cloud in fear.   
“The dragon is coming!” I shouted down to them, making their faces turn pale against the dark sky. “Sound the alarm and get out of here!”   
They immediately ran away, shouting the warning and calling for the guards, whom I noticed were nowhere to be seen. Before long the bell started ringing and the docks and boats were filling with people.   
I ran back into Bard’s house to pick up my weapons, strapping Ringil onto my back.   
“Is the dragon really coming?” little Tilda asked in a small voice, gazing up at me and clutching her doll to her chest.   
“Yes,” I bent down to her height. “You need to get your coat on and stay next to your sister, can you do that?”   
She nodded and Sigrid appeared with all their coats, handing Bain his before helping Tilda into hers. Óin quickly gathered Bard’s healing supplies into a small satchel and Fíli strapped on the sword I had been given from the armoury along with the knives.   
“We have no time,” Tauriel said from the doorway. “We must leave now.”   
“Help me get him up,” Fíli told Bofur, reaching down to grasp Kíli’s arm. “Come on, brother, let’s go.”   
“I’m fine!” Kíli moaned, wrenching out of Fíli’s grasp. “I can walk.”   
“Quickly now,” Tauriel said.   
“We’re not leaving,” Bain said, trying to mask the obvious fear in his voice. “Not without our father.”   
“If you stay here, your sisters will die,” Tauriel snapped. “Is that what your father would want?”   
“Bain,” I drew his attention away from Tauriel’s stern expression. “Your father is smart and strong, he’ll find a way out. He would want you to get your sisters to safety first.”   
Bain regarded me for a moment before nodding and following us out onto the balcony. We made our way down onto the boat, piling in while Fíli and Bofur took the oars at the back. Tauriel crouched in the front of the boat, while Sigrid and Tilda sat behind her, Óin and Bain sat next to them. Kíli stayed behind Óin, while I crouched behind the girls and searched the docks for any sign of Bard.  
Above us, the shadow of the dragon loomed out of the clouds, soundless except for the rush of air as he passed. Tilda let out a frightened squeak and Sigrid held her close, trying her best not to look afraid.   
“Don’t look,” I told them. “Just pretend it’s a bad dream, and you’re going to wake up soon.”   
With a loud whoosh the dragon suddenly sped right over our heads, nearly skimming the roofs of the surrounding houses with its huge claws. It was much, much bigger than I had imagined; certainly big enough to fill a mountain.   
Both Sigrid and Tilda screamed, along with many other bystanders, and ducked down next to Óin, who placed a protective arm over them.   
Bain only stared, open-mouthed, at the monster as it circled overhead, hovering slightly, far above the lake, before descending with horrendous speed back towards the town. A small orange glow lit up in its chest, getting bigger and bigger before the dragon released a huge cascade of fire down onto the town, lighting up a whole row of buildings and docks all the way across a strip of the town.   
The screams were deafening, people shouting for loved ones, shouting prayers, shouting for help. I forced myself to block it out, focusing on only those of us in the boat. My thoughts kept straying back to Bard; what if he had been in that row of buildings?   
“Da!” Tilda cried. “Where’s Da?!”   
“He’s coming, Tilda,” I offered but I couldn’t even convince her.   
A colossal roar sounded from above us and before we could blink the row of houses behind us was in flames.   
The screams were much closer to home now – one man was even in flames and rolled out of his window into the freezing lake.   
“Keep going!” Tauriel ordered, catching me watching the carnage. “We must not stop.”   
“Look out!” Bofur shouted and I turned in time to see the Master’s barge smash into the front of our boat. It tipped violently sideways and I had to grab hold of Fíli so he wouldn’t fall in the water. Bofur managed to reverse the boat slightly so it didn’t completely capsize and I looked back to the front and saw that the Master’s barge, despite being three times the size of our small fishing boat, contained only the Master, Alfrid, a few guards and a huge pile of gold – what must have been the entire town’s worth.    
_Bloody, selfish cowards!_ I wanted to scream at them.   
By now the fire was surrounding us; nearly every building seemed to be burning. Tauriel directed us underneath one of the buildings, using her hand to steer the boat through by holding onto the wood above her head. Next to us another building collapsed into the water, eliciting another round of horrific screams.   
I continued to look around desperately for Bard, but the logical part of my mind kept telling me the chances were slipping with every new catastrophe.   
Then the bell stopped ringing.   
I spun around to search for the tower, expecting it to have collapsed into the inferno, but it was still standing. The bell was now still, and next to it was a tall figure with a longbow.   
“Look! On the tower!” I shouted, pointing towards the figure as he loosed an arrow at the dragon.   
“Da!” Bain choked, scrambling upright to get a better look. Sigrid and Tilda sat up too, looking up at the watchtower with a new dose of fear.   
“Da!” Sigrid screamed as Bard loosed another arrow at the dragon. It bounced off the dragon’s scale with a distinct clang.   
“He hit it!” Kíli shouted. “He hit the dragon!”   
“No,” Tauriel whispered.   
“He did! He hit its mark, I saw!”   
“His arrows cannot pierce its hide,” Tauriel said with a pained expression. “I fear nothing will.”   
I looked back to Bard, wanting to weep at his fruitless efforts. In my distraction, I didn’t notice Bain grab hold of a hook above our heads and swing himself off the boat until I felt his foot nudge the back of my head. I spun around and tried to grab his leg but he was already out of reach. “No!”   
“What are you doing?” Bofur shouted, grabbing for him and missing as well.   
“Bain!” Tilda cried.   
“Come back!” Fíli shouted.   
“Leave him!”   
“What?” I shrieked, turning to Tauriel.   
“We cannot go back,” she shook her head at me.   
“He’s just a boy! He’ll die!” I yelled, biting back tears of frustration.   
“If we go back we will _all_ die,” Tauriel said calmly, yet with clear authority.   
“Then I’ll go myself!”   
“NO!” Kíli yelled, making me jump. My eyes found his which were now wide with fear. “You’re not leaving! You promised me!”    
“Bain -!”   
“You _promised_ me!” He reached for my hand and squeezed tightly. I squeezed it back, unable to hold back the tears as I caught sight of the dragon circling above our heads back towards the watchtower.   
We were almost out of the town now and I watched the tower incessantly, never letting go of Kíli’s hand. I saw Bard fire more arrows before the dragon finally swooped down, knocking the top of the tower off.   
“NO!” I screamed in a fit of rage and Kíli’s arms locked around me as I tried to hold back furious tears.   
“Da!” Sigrid and Tilda managed to cry out through their choked sobs.   
Fíli and Bofur kept rowing, their faces filled with sorrow at the cries of the girls. Tauriel simply stayed facing forward. We watched the dragon circle around the remaining tower, before landing heavily on the buildings that were still standing, crushing them into wooden splinters. His huge head turned towards the watchtower and his jaws opened to release a guttural, booming voice that echoed across the entire lake, silencing many people’s screams.   
**“ _Who are you_?”** Smaug demanded angrily. **“ _That would stand against me_?”**   
I looked back to the tower to see Bard standing, tall as ever, clutching an unmistakably large black arrow.   
“He’s alive!” I called back to the girls. “He’s got the black arrow!”   
Tauriel whipped round at this, watching the scene unfold with a look of awe before frowning.   
“His bow is broken,” she told us. Before we could respond, there was a huge crash, and then another and another as Smaug began to slowly drag himself over the burning buildings towards the watchtower.   
**“ _Now that is a pity_ ,” **he said in an unnervingly charming voice for such a gigantic fire-breathing monster. **“ _What will you do now,_ _bowman_?”** He spat, with a hiss of… _amusement?_ _Can dragons feel amusement?_  
**“ _You are forsaken_ ,”** Smaug continued. **“ _No help will come_.”**   
He continued to creep forward, his eyes fixed on the tower. **“ _Is that your child_?”** he hissed gleefully, making me feel sick to my stomach.   
“Bain?” I whispered.   
**“ _You cannot save him from the fire. He will BURN!_ ”** The sheer volume of the dragon’s voice seemed the make the very water of the lake shiver.   
“Don’t look,” I said to the girls, but they ignored me, watching fearfully as Smaug crept ever closer to the tower.   
“He is making a bow,” Tauriel almost whispered.   
“He’s what?” Kíli asked.   
“He is using the broken halves of his bow as the edges and the watchtower itself as a handle.”   
“What’s he using as a support?” I asked, squinting to try and make out what was happening.   
“His son,” Tauriel answered with a frown. “He is balancing the arrow on his son.”   
“He’s _what?”_ I cried, my eyes never leaving the tower. I could just make out two figures, one standing straight and another leaning back, holding the notch of the arrow beneath his chin.   
**“ _Tell me, wretch_!”** Smaug barked with a new found anger. **“** _How now shall you challenge me? You have nothing left but your DEATH_!”  
Smaug’s mouth opened in a colossal roar as he charged towards the tower, only for it to be cut off as Bard loosed the arrow and it struck the dragon’s mark. Then there was a deafening screech and a crash of wood as Smaug careered into the tower, knocking the entire thing sideways into the water.   
“Bard!” I screamed instinctively, unable to see from the distance if there was anybody in the water. The dragon skidded through the burning town, before finally gathering the strength to flap its massive wings and launch itself into the air. With a series of pained roars, he propelled himself further into the sky until finally, his fire went out and he was left as a dark shadow in the night sky, falling through the air before landing with a heavy crash on top of the burning town. And with that the night fell deadly silent.   
We all stared at the sight of the mangled dragon corpse amongst the piles of burning wood – it wasn’t exactly something you saw every day.   
“He killed it…” I finally whispered, clutching Kíli’s arms. “He killed the dragon.”   
“Da?” Tilda’s tiny voice whimpered behind me.   
“Can you see?” Sigrid asked Tauriel. “Did they make it?”    
Tauriel only shook her head slightly, frowning at the sight of the ruined town. “I cannot see. It is too dark.”   
“Maybe they can swim to shore?” Bofur offered.   
We all silently allowed ourselves to hope as we made our way to the shore with the sun beginning to rise with new dawn.   



	2. Desolation and Desperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Smaug.

_ Vana _

The lake shore was utter chaos. Both the dead and almost dead washed up in the shallow water, many with burn injuries of varying severity. Those who could walk were running back and forth from the shore, dragging people and supplies out of the water and searching for their loved ones. The dwarves stayed by the boat so no one would commandeer it while Tauriel and I walked up and down the shore with Sigrid and Tilda, calling for their father and brother.   
I returned to the boat, to get a waterskin for them, to four very cold, tired and grumpy dwarves.   
“We should get moving soon,” Fíli told me. “We need to get to the mountain.”   
“We can’t leave yet,” I said, taking a short drink of water. “We haven’t found Bard.”   
“We don’t have time, Vana. It could take hours, or even days to find him, especially if he’s…” He tailed off.   
“If he’s dead?” I finished for him, glaring at the four of them. “After everything Bard and his children did for us, after everything that happened last night, you just want to leave two girls, one of which is only a child, in a group of desperate, hysterical people with no protection?”   
“They have Tauriel,” Kíli reminded me. “She can protect them.”   
“Bard doesn’t know Tauriel, he _knows_ us. He would never forgive us if we left them.”   
“What does that matter?” Kíli frowned.   
“It matters!” I insisted.   
“To you maybe.”   
I glared at his insinuation. “This again? Really?” I then turned to the others. “I’m not leaving until he’s found, dead or alive.”   
“Speaking of ‘dead or alive’,” Fíli snapped, storming up to me. “There were ten other people in that Mountain before that dragon attacked us; our uncle, your father, Óin and Bofur’s brothers. I empathise with those girls, and if their father and brother are dead I will grieve for them, but you have to remember why you are here.”   
I narrowed my eyes at the older prince, exaggerating our slight height difference by straightening up and glaring down at him.   
“I know _exactly_ why we are here. We are here because we needed a jewel from _that_ mountain” – I pointed angrily at the lone peak peering up through the morning haze – “To rally seven dwarf armies to possibly fight _that_ dragon.” I then pointed towards the smoking ruins of the town. “Unfortunately, for all of us, that didn’t exactly go to plan and instead we _woke_ the dragon and sent it on a killing spree to the nearest town. Now all these people are homeless, traumatised and grief-stricken, because of _us!_ And seeing as there’s only five of us, we can’t help the whole town. But we can absolutely help the man who risked his own freedom to give us shelter and weapons, and who risked his own life along with his son’s to save us from the very dragon that _we_ set on his home!”   
By the end of my tirade I was finding it hard to catch my breath. Fíli’s gaze never left mine, but I could see his hardened expression start to falter.   
“Don’t you dare lecture me on priorities, Fíli, son of Nalí. I know exactly who is in that Mountain, who may possibly be lying dead there. But whether or not that’s the case, they aren’t going anywhere for the next few hours. These girls need our help right now. We owe them that at the very least, even if it ends with them being orphaned as well as homeless.”   
Fíli’s jaw clenched at this and he glared at me for a few moments before nodding.   
“Very well, we stay until Bard and Bain are found. As soon as they are, we leave.”   
“Thank you,” I said, letting out a huge breath I hadn’t realised I had been holding.   
“Bofur,” Fíli turned to the other dwarf. “You and I will help them search. Kíli, Óin, you two wait by the boat.”   
“I can help you search,” Kíli insisted, standing up from where he had been sitting on the boat. “My leg’s fine.”   
“You need rest, Kíli,” Fíli told him firmly. “Stay with the boat. We’ve got this.”   
Kíli huffed and resumed his seat next to Óin with a scowl.

For the next hour, Fíli and Bofur searched through the bodies while Tauriel and I tried to keep the girls looking elsewhere. The people were starting to organise themselves, handing out salvaged food, dry clothes and blankets. I had a blanket pressed into my hands by a passing woman and gave it to an older man hunched over by his half-burned fishing boat. He thanked me but I could only manage a small smile in response.   
We began to ask if anyone had seen Bard, but no one had a definitive answer. Many asked if he had been the one on the watchtower and I could only give a small nod as an answer.   
I began searching for the people who were handing out supplies and asking if they had seen Bard. Most simply said no, but they would tell him to find me if they saw him. Others said they might have seen him but they weren’t sure. In the end it was only frustrating me more. I thanked a lady who was handing out blankets for her help and turned away to go back to the girls when I heard that sleazy voice again and couldn’t help but groan audibly.   
“Oi!” Alfrid was yelling at someone. “Give me one of them! I’ll catch my death in this cold!”   
“Oh, find your own!” I recognised the voice of the lady I had just spoken to. “You’re not in charge anymore Alfrid Lickspittle!”   
“That is where you are wrong! In the absence of the Master, the power cedes to his deputy, which in this instance is my good self.”   
“Is he serious?” I asked Sigrid.   
“Unfortunately, yes.” Sigrid rolled her eyes.   
“Now give me that blanket!” A series of grunts followed and I turned to see Alfrid wrestling with this lady – and losing – over a blanket.   
“Master’s deputy?” She sneered, shoving him roughly away. “Don’t make me laugh. You’re a sneak thief more like! I’ll be dead before I answer to the likes of you!”   
She turned to walk away only for Alfrid to grab the back of her dress and yank her round to face him, raising his hand.   
“Maybe that can be arranged!” he snarled. Instinct snapped and I leapt forward to grab his outstretched wrist, twisting it backwards around his back. Alfrid shrieked at the pain and turned as far as his neck would allow to face me.   
“Let her go or I break your arm,” I growled. Alfrid immediately released the woman who staggered backwards. Once she was a safe distance away I aimed a kick at the back of Alfrid’s knees so he would collapse onto them.   
“If I see you touch another woman again, I will not hesitate to kill you, you pathetic wretch. Are we clear?” I twisted his arm a little further for good measure.   
“Yes!” Alfrid cried. “Clear as crystal! Just let me go!”   
I released him with a feral snarl, turning to see Sigrid and Tilda gazing at me with a mixture of fear and awe.   
“I wouldn’t go turning on your own, Alfrid. Not now.” A familiar voice sounded from behind me, making me freeze. Sigrid and Tilda, on the other hand, gasped and sprinted past me.   
“Da!”   
“Come here!”  
“You’re alive!”   
“Bain!”   
I turned slowly to see Bard holding Tilda in one arm while his other was wrapped tightly around Sigrid. Bain had both arms around his sisters and his father and the sight made me breathe a huge sigh of relief. Bard’s eyes then found mine and I couldn’t help the huge smile breaking over my face, to the point where it almost hurt my cheeks.   
_Bard’s safe. They’re all safe._ Finally _something has gone right._  
When his children finally released him he was in front of me in three long strides, enveloping me in a tight hug, lifting me off the ground and spinning me around, much to my surprise.   
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”   
“Bard -” I began as he set me on my feet.   
“Thank you so much for keeping them safe. I owe you everything.”   
“I am not the one to thank,” I said and turned to wave Tauriel over. The elf, who had been quietly observing the whole reunion, looked a little startled at my gesture but came forward anyway.   
“This is Tauriel,” I said to Bard. “She kept us all safe when the dragon attacked. It’s thanks to her that we got out of there.”   
“I will be forever grateful to you, Lady Tauriel,” Bard said formally with a low bow. “I don’t how I can ever repay such a debt.”   
“There is no debt, Master Bard,” Tauriel inclined her head with a small smile. “It is enough to know that you and your son are safe.”   
“Vana?” I turned at the call of my name to find Fíli, and Bofur approaching.   
“You found him then?” Bofur observed with a cheerful smile. “It’s good to see you in one piece!”   
“I’m happy to see you all well and safe,” Bard smiled at them. “Thank you for helping my children.” Bard glanced over Fíli’s shoulder before addressing him. “Your brother is feeling better I see?”   
I turned to see Kíli standing a small distance behind Fíli, glowering over in our direction. As he caught Bard’s eye, he gave a small nod of acknowledgement, but made no move to come closer.   
“Yes, he is much better,” Fíli nodded. “I wanted to thank you for all your help. I know my other companions may have seemed ungrateful before they left, but I assure you we all appreciated your help, and the risk that you took to give it to us.”   
“For all the good it did us,” Bard muttered darkly but then inclined his head. “I hope the rest of your company are safe.”   
Fíli nodded his farewell before turning to head back to the boat. Bofur said a quick farewell to them before joining him.   
“I suppose you are leaving too?” Bard asked me and I turned to see his glower turn into concern.   
“They’re my company too,” I reminded him.   
“That mountain is filled with cursed treasure, Bard said in a low voice. “And who knows what the dragon did before he attacked Lake-town. I can’t help but feel you are walking into a tomb.”   
I flinched at that word, thinking of Dwalin, Balin, Thorin, Bilbo…  
“Even if that’s the case,” I said. “I can’t abandon the others to go without me. I made a promise to protect them.”   
“Vana -”  
“I hope very much that we meet again, Bard Dragonslayer,” I told him with a smile before turning to leave.   
“Vana!” Tilda’s startled cry made me spin around as she barrelled into me, her arms wrapping around my waist in a surprisingly strong grip.   
“Tilda!” I laughed. “Careful!”  
“Sorry,” she mumbled against the fabric of my cardigan before looking up at me through large, sad eyes. “Do you have to leave? Can’t you stay with us?”   
“I’m afraid not,” I said peeling her arms from around me and kneeling down so I was looking up at her. “I have to go and make sure my family is safe and you have to stay with yours. You understand that don’t you?”   
She nodded and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Promise you’ll come back and see us?”   
“I promise I’ll come as soon as I can,” I said, patting her back gently. “But I must go now.” I gently pulled away before swiftly turning to follow the others. In less than ten seconds I reached Kíli, who had been waiting for me.   
“I thought you were supposed to be waiting in the boat, for your leg,” I raised an eyebrow at him.   
“I couldn’t stand waiting for so long,” he muttered as he walked beside me. “Thought I could help with the search, though you clearly didn’t have much of a problem finding him.”   
“He found us, as it turned out,” I sighed. “I’m just happy they’re all safe.”   
“We all are,” Kíli agreed, through his face was still slightly dark.   
“Are you alright?” I asked. “Are you in pain?”   
“No, I’m not. This time I’m telling the truth, I promise.”   
“You’d better be.”   
We were almost at the boat, where Fíli, Óin and Bofur were almost ready to go, when we spotted Tauriel standing on shore looking on towards the forest.   
“Tauriel?” Kíli called her name and went to her. I followed, glancing back to the boat.   
“Kíli! Vana!” Fíli shouted to us as he, Óin and Bofur began to push the boat into the water. “We’re leaving!”   
Kíli and I exchanged a glance before turning to Tauriel who bowed her head.   
“They are your people,” she said solemnly. “You must go.”   
“What about you?” I asked. “Will you return to the forest?”   
“I defied the orders of my King when I came to search for you,” she admitted. “I do not know if he will forgive that.”   
“Come with us,” Kíli implored, causing Tauriel to look at him in surprise.   
“Kíli,” I nudged him lightly. “Do you really think Thorin will let a wood-elf enter the Mountain?” It sounded ruder out loud than I meant and I shot an apologetic look at Tauriel who only nodded in agreement.   
“No, you are right,” she said to me before turning to Kíli. “I would not be welcome.”   
“We could convince him,” Kíli insisted. “Please, Tauriel, you saved our lives. My uncle will be grateful for that, I know he will.”   
I couldn’t help but smile at Kíli’s optimism and for a moment Tauriel seemed inclined to agree. She made a half-step towards us before freezing, her face rapidly returning to its usual composure. I looked around her to see Legolas standing a few yards behind her, gazing at her intently.   
She greeted him in Elvish without looking at him and he responded gruffly, barely glancing at Kíli and I. Tauriel’s face fell slightly at his words, whatever they were, and shook her head at us before turning away.   
“We should go,” I said softly to Kíli, who gave a half-nod as he turned to follow me back to the boat.   
“Tauriel?” Kíli suddenly called and I turned to see him taking a step towards her. “Will we see you again?”   
“I hope so,” Tauriel answered with a small smile before turning back to Legolas. Kíli turned back to me, the sadness clearly etched on his face.   
“Maybe we will see her again?” I offered.   
“I don’t think so,” Kíli muttered as he stormed past me. I sighed and followed him into the boat.


	3. Among the Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are running high as the five remaining of Thorin's company begin the long hard slog to the Mountain. Kili and Vana are at odds yet again and the others are pretty sick of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd just put these three up, seeing as they're done and they're a bit shorter. Hopefully I'll find some Wifi somewhere in the New Zealand West Coast!

_ Kíli _

Kíli couldn’t help but think about the way Bard looked at Vana as they left. The way the bowman – or the _dragon-slayer_ as Vana now called him - gazed at her was the way he looked at her, when he could think of nothing else but her beauty and her unfathomable strength. It wasn’t something he appreciated coming from another man. And the worst part was that she didn’t even seem to notice, either that or she did notice and didn’t mind.  
_No,_ Kíli thought to himself. _That’s even worse._  
“Kíli, are you alright?” Vana’s voice dragged him from his chain of thought. “You’ve barely said a word since we left.”  
He only grunted in response, not quite trusting himself to speak just yet. His leg was still bothering him. It wasn’t painful as such, just a little tender, but he hated feeling like an invalid.  
“You just seem bothered by something.”  
“Well we spent the entire night running from a fire-breathing dragon, maybe that has something to do with it,” Kíli said, unable to keep the edge from his voice.  
He felt, rather than saw, Vana glare at him.  
“Well sorry for caring.”  
“Yes, I know, you care so much about everything and everyone.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“Will you two give it a rest?” Fíli snapped, looking round at them from where he was rowing. “We have ten other companions to worry about, we can discuss your mood swings later!”  
“ _My_ mood swings?” Vana cried. “My mood is perfectly stationary.”  
“I don’t care. Less talking, more rowing!”  
Vana only huffed and continued to row. The next few minutes of tense silence felt more like hours until Vana’s voice broke through again.  
“I still want to know what you meant by that.”  
“Oh Mahal save us,” Óin muttered.  
“I think it’s fairly obvious to anyone with eyes and ears,” Kíli grumbled, glowering at her.  
“So pretend I’m blind and deaf,” she sneered.  
“‘Oh Bard,’” Kíli said in an abnormally high-pitched voice. “‘I’m so glad you’re safe. I hope we meet again _Dragon-slayer!’”_  
“Oh for the love of Yavanna, are you serious?”  
“Do I look like I’m laughing?”  
“You’re unbelievable!”  
“ _I’m_ unbelievable?”  
“ _This_ is unbelievable,” Fíli muttered.  
“What do you think is happening? Do you think I’m secretly courting Bard? Bard who we only met two days ago when he buried us in barrels of dead fish?” Vana was practically snarling at him.  
“I don’t think anything, I’m just telling you what it looks like.”  
“What it _looks_ like? And what does it look like exactly?”  
“Will the both of you stop?” Fíli groaned as the boat finally reached the opposite shore. “We have a lot of walking ahead of us and I don’t want to listen to you two bicker the entire time!”  
“I will be happy to stop bickering when Kíli apologises for insinuating that I’m constantly flirting with other men.”  
Kíli couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he stepped out of the boat.   
“Maybe I’ll apologise when _you_ open your eyes a little!”  
“What do you mean ‘open my eyes’?” Vana cried, throwing her oar sharply into the boat. “What am I supposed to be opening my eyes to? Why don’t you just come out and say it since I’m clearly so dumb that I can’t understand -!”  
“You’re an incredibly beautiful woman!” he shouted. “Men look at you and they want you. It’s to be expected, but you encourage them!”  
“I WHAT?!” She shrieked.  
“BOTH OF YOU SHUT IT!” Bofur yelled, stepping in between them. “Before you say something you’ll regret! Now in case it’s slipped your minds, there’s an entire town been destroyed back there, and a mountain where my brother and my cousin are either praying for me to show up alive, or lying dead. I don’t want to hear another peep out of either one of you until we reach that mountain and see the rest of the company safe and well. Is that understood?”  
They all stared in shock at the miner, who had until now been the one who kept their spirits up with his jovial tunes and raucous laughter. But now his words made Kíli’s gut twist in remorse and he nodded solemnly at Bofur while Vana simply looked away in shame.  
“Let’s get going then,” Fíli ordered and began to march up the hills, leading their way, finally, to the end of the road.

The journey was mostly uphill, and the lack of sleep and food from the previous night coupled with Kíli’s healing leg meant their progress was slow. The day was wearing on and it was well into the afternoon before they could no longer smell the smoke from the ruined town. Vana paused to look back at the ruins and Kíli followed her gaze to the congregation of people on the lake’s edge.  
_She’s thinking of the bargeman,_ he thought to himself with a scowl. _She’s wondering if he and his children are alright. Of course she is, she has a heart of gold. She can’t help but care for people in need._  
He couldn’t stop the knowing expression on his face when he turned back to her.  
“They’ll be alright, you don’t have to worry about them.”  
“I can’t help it. There’s so many of them, old, young, half-starved from that wretched Master. Didn’t you see him? He must have emptied the town’s treasury to take with him.”  
“It’s not our problem, Vana,” he said with a little too much animosity. The disgusted look on her face made him sigh.  
“Don’t you care at all?” she asked and his head snapped up.  
 “Of course I care!”  
“You could’ve fooled me.”  
“What do you want me to do?” He asked, only just stopping himself from yelling. “We can’t do anything to help them right now. Thorin promised them a share of the gold, so when we get to Erebor then we can worry about how we can help them. Until then, there’s no use in worrying about something we cannot change. We have enough to worry about with whatever awaits us in that mountain.”  
She stared at him with a blank expression and he could see her chest heaving as she tried to remain calm.  
Behind her, he could see his brother and the others had stopped some way ahead and were watching them intently. Fíli raised his arm to wave them over and Kíli waved back in acknowledgement.  
“Come on,” he said softly, stepping past her. “We’re wasting time here.”

It didn’t take them long to catch up to the others, but Kíli could feel Vana’s tension even from feet away. She was clearly thinking very hard but right now he didn’t want to think about what. He replayed their previous conversations over and over; he had said some things that he clearly shouldn’t have. How could he help it though? It was screamingly obvious to him, and he was sure to everyone else, that Vana was incredibly desirable. The bargeman was obviously taken with her, that much Kíli could see, but what was weighing heaviest on his mind was the fact that he was now incredibly aware, more than ever, of the race distinction.  
Like it or not, Vana was human and it stands to reason that she should be with a fellow Man. There were plenty of reasons for her to choose not to be with him.  
_Except, she loves you. She’s said so. She wears your braid and she has given herself to you. She has put herself through battle and torture for you and your family._  
He had to make this right.  
“Vana?” He called to her softly.  
She made no answer other than to incline her head slightly towards him.  
“I’m sorry for what I said,” he said, forcing his aching leg to move faster so he could walk beside her. “I know how much you care for me, and for my kin. And I know you must care for the people of Lake-town. It’s who you are, and you -”  
“What did you mean when you said I encourage other men?” She cut him off, looking at him properly. Her face was blank, other than her slightly contracted eyebrows as she awaited his answer, which he knew had to be very carefully worded.  
“I was angry when I said that -”  
“They say being angry is a lot like being drunk, in that people are often at their most truthful. Whatever you say in the heat of the moment must be something that’s on your mind.” Her flat tone was starting to worry him and Kíli took a deep breath before answering.  
“I just meant that you’re always so giving and kind, and while that’s not a bad thing, I worry that it gives men the wrong idea.”  
“So, showing gratitude to a host who risks everything he has to help us is, what, too forward?”  
He took another deep breath, exhaling loudly to try and stop his temper rising.  
“Will you stop sighing at me?” She cried, misinterpreting his action. “I’m not a dumb hussy you can order around!”  
“Order -?” He frowned, taking a step back. “I’m not ordering you around! You’re not listening to me!”  
“I’m listening just fine,” she snarled. “You appreciate that I’m kind to others, just not Men. You love that I have a caring heart, but only when I’m caring about you. I never knew you could be so petty, _Prince_ Kíli _._ ”  
“I never knew you could be so pig-headed,” he shot back. “Anyone with working eyes could see that bargeman liked what he saw in you, and even if you didn’t mean to you enabled him to feel something with your warm smiles and honeyed words. Something only I should feel.”  
“You know, you and Tauriel were getting pretty cosy in there as well. But I’m prepared to let that go because you were recovering from almost dying!”  
“When will you finally understand this?” Kíli snapped, completely forgoing any control of his temper. “I _can’t_ love anyone else! Even if I wanted to, it’s physically impossible. I love _you!_ I’ve pledged myself to _you!_ There’s no going back for me! There’s no changing my mind. My heart is set in stone and it belongs to you. _You,_ on the other hand -” he pointed angrily at her chest – “have yet to make any kind of commitment. _You’ve_ been gifted with the fickle heart of humans, so you could leave at any time you want and never look back -!”  
The sharp sound of the slap echoed in his ears many moments before he felt the heated sting of it on his cheek. He looked back round slowly to see Vana physically trembling with rage.  
“‘The _fickle_ heart of humans?’” She snarled. “You want a commitment, you dim-witted arse?  How about abandoning the only father I’ve ever known to stay with you in Lake-town when you needed me, even though you were refusing to speak to me at the time? How about when I practically forced my way onto this quest because I couldn’t bear the thought of a single day without you? How about the times I’ve shared my bed and my body with you?”  
The other three dwarves could not have looked more uncomfortable at this remark and Kíli felt his face grow hot.  
“And do you know why _that_ is, you stubborn pig?” She nearly shouted her last question. “It’s because I love you so bloody much that I trust you so implicitly with every single part of me! Apparently that was a mistake, because the minute you feel even a little bit threatened or jealous, it’s all _my_ fault and _I’m_ the one who’s being unfaithful! And you said _human_ hearts were fickle.”  
“You-!”  
“I’M NOT FINISHED!” She bellowed, making him shrink back. “How about the fact that when your uncle came to make me swear to keep you safe I agreed without hesitation? When I swore an oath to protect you and your family with everything I have? When I swore that I would die for you? Tell me, Kíli, is THAT enough of a commitment for you?!”  
Kíli could only gape at her.  
Her face was dark red and her chest heaving from her tirade. She looked as though she might breathe fire at him. He tried to form words but his voice abandoned him and no sound escaped his lips. The entire hillside was draped in a thick silence for many long moments before Fíli finally called down to them.  
“We made it. The gates of Erebor are near.”


	4. The Blind Ambition of a Mountain King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company are reunited!  
> Only there's angst. Lots and lots of angst.

_ Vana _

The entrance to Erebor was clearly once a grand set of stone gates, carved from the very rock of the mountain itself. As we got closer, however, the years of neglect became more apparent. In many places the stone around the open gate way was cracked and the huge piles of rocks littering the ground around the gate had clearly been blasted apart by the dragon. Within the gate we could see large pieces of rock columns littering the hall, as well as what appeared to be a giant gold bell lying forgotten on the stone floor, and the entire mountain was utterly silent and dark inside. We paused in the gateway to glance at each other, each of us unsure what we were going to find in there.  
Bracing ourselves, we sprinted into the mountain.  
The cavern within was massive, stretching far up towards the peak and even farther down into the abyss of abandoned mines below. The whole place rang with rich history and great tragedy, and yet it did not feel like a kingdom.  
“Hello?” Bofur called into the cavern, his echo resounding multiple times off of the vast stone. “Bombur? Bifur?”  
We waited but no answer came. Even the breaths we were taking felt louder than screams as they echoed in the cavern.  
“Dwalin?” I shouted loudly, trying to let the sound travel as far as possible. “Balin?”  
“Anybody?” Bofur called as he sprinted further into the cavern. We followed, and ended up heading down one of the bigger (and clearer) stairways.  
“Dwalin?” I tried again shouting as loudly as I could without deafening us all.  
“Wait!” A familiar voice echoed through one of the corridors on the stairway.  
“Bilbo!” I cried happily, sprinting towards the source of the voice.   
“He’s alive?” Óin asked in disbelief.  
“Stop!” Bilbo appeared from a doorway, waving his arms frantically. “Stop! Stop!”  
He paused in front of us, looking incredibly relieved and yet exhausted and a little frightened.  
“You need to leave,” Bilbo told us quietly. “We all need to leave.”  
“We only just got here,” Bofur moaned.  
Bilbo only sighed. “I’ve tried talking to him but he won’t listen.”  
“What do you mean laddie?” Óin asked, pressing his ear trumpet into his ear.  
“Thorin!” Bilbo said exasperatedly. “Thorin - Thorin has been down there for hours. He doesn’t sleep, he barely eats. He’s not been himself, not at all. It’s this place. I think a sickness lies upon it.”  
_Sickness._ The word made me close my eyes in despair.  
_“You know of my grandfather’s sickness?”  
“It was the gold. The Elves said it was cursed.”  
“Lord Elrond said the madness runs in my family, that I may succumb to the same sickness that destroyed my grandfather.”_  
“Sickness? Kíli asked, frowning. “What kind of sickness?”  
“Gold sickness,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead with my hand.  
“What?” Kíli turned to me.  
“It’s the gold sickness,” I groaned. “He warned me, he – Fíli?”  
Fíli had squeezed past us and was now running down the stairs that Bilbo had just come up from.  
“Fíli!” Bilbo called and chased after him. “Fíli!”  
We all followed, noticing the golden light coming from the chamber Fíli was heading for. I knew exactly what the source of the light was but nothing could have prepared me for the sight.  
The Erebor treasure chamber filled an entire cavern by itself. A cavern easily large enough for the dragon to nest, move or even fly about in. The treasure itself covered the floor in endless layers of coins, jewels and trinkets, stretching up the walls around doorways and even piling up the staircases. We all stood on a walkway above it, staring down into the sheer ocean of gold beneath our feet, nothing but the sound of our own breathing surrounding us.  
The near silence was broken by a light clatter of coins against coins as Thorin stepped out of a doorway into the chamber. He walked over the gold piles as easily as if he were walking on stone, swaying slightly as if in a trance. He wore a dark, heavy, richly made fur-lined cape over his shoulders that dragged over the treasure, making more noise than his heavy boots.  
“Gold,” his whisper echoed through the entire chamber, sending a shiver down my spine. He seemed to be speaking to the gold, as if he was speaking to a lover.  
“Gold beyond measure, beyond sorrow and grief.”  
Thorin’s eyes suddenly found us and his expression abruptly changed. He seemed almost angry, affronted at least, that we had interrupted his thoughts. I glanced at Fíli and Kíli who were only staring back at him in confusion and worry. I looked back to Thorin, the breath catching in my throat.  
_This is it. Elrond was right.  
_ “Behold!” Thorin declared before his voice turned soft once again. “The great treasure horde of Thrór.” He bowed his head slightly as if in prayer before suddenly launching an object towards us. Fíli caught it with ease and peered at it. It was a large, ornate purple gem.  
“Welcome, my sister-sons,” Thorin said with a small, crooked smile before raising his arms in a greeting. “To the kingdom of Erebor.”  
There was a long beat of silence, with Thorin’s words echoing softly around the vast cavern. He gazed all around him at the gold, a small smile spreading onto his face, keeping his arms raised as he spun in a slow circle.  
Beside me I felt Kíli’s fingers brush the back of my hand. I turned to see him staring wide-eyed at his uncle and swallowing hard.  
“Did you know about this?” he whispered, looking to his brother. Fíli only closed his eyes briefly, before turning and making his way down the stairs towards his uncle.  
“Fíli?” I called after him but Óin laid a hand on my arm to stop me following. Instead we watched as he hurried down the steps, stopping just before he reached the gold piles that covered the remaining stairs. Thorin didn’t seem to have noticed him, still gazing at the treasure horde beneath his feet and didn’t look up until Fíli softly called to him.  
“Uncle?”  
For a few moments, Thorin didn’t answer, only turning slowly to face him with that small smile still etched across his face.  
“Beautiful isn’t it?” he whispered, though in the cavern it may as well have been a shout. “So much beauty and wealth, the fortune of our people. And it will all be yours one day, nephew.”  
After trolls, goblins, giant bears and spiders; even after Kíli’s dance with death, I had never seen Fíli look more afraid than he did now.  
“Uncle, where are the others?”  
Thorin made no answer, only to turn away back to his gold.  
“Are they alive?” Fíli asked louder.  
“The company of Thorin Oakenshield will be famous,” Thorin mused. “Their lives will be immortalised in songs and tales. And our people, they will rise again. The line of Durin is strong and the dwarves of Erebor will be the most prosperous in all Middle Earth…”  
“Fíli?”  
I glanced back to the older prince to see Bilbo standing beside him. He gently took Fíli’s elbow, trying to turn him away from Thorin.  
“Fíli he’s not himself. He has good moments and bad. It’s best to wait until he’s more lucid.”  
I expected Fíli to refuse to leave, to insist on speaking with his uncle until he was heard, but instead he complied, nodding slowly at the hobbit and with one final glance at his uncle he turned away to head back up the steps.  
Kíli’s eyes had never left his uncle, and I could see the fear and confusion in them. Seeing him like this hurt but I went to take his hand and he pulled away from me to walk swiftly to his brother – that cut me into a thousand pieces.  
“Bilbo?” Óin addressed the hobbit, holding his horn to his ear. “My brother? And the others?”  
“All fine,” Bilbo assured us. “Everyone’s fine. We had a few close calls, and the odd minor burn but everyone’s safe.”  
“Where are they?”  
“Not too far, I’ll take you to them.”  
He motioned for us to follow and headed down one of the corridors at the head of the staircase. The others went ahead but Kíli took hold of my arm to keep me back. When the others were a slight distance away he leant forward to speak softly in my ear.  
“You knew about this?”  
He glanced back to his uncle and I followed his gaze briefly to see Thorin examining a deep red jewel.  
“He told me he was afraid of this happening,” I whispered. “When we were at Beorn’s. I didn’t think it would happen so fast -”  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He hissed and I recoiled slightly at his venomous expression.  
“He made me promise not to.”  
“To _protect_ me?”  
I narrowed my eyes at his tone. “Yes, I suppose so.”  
In the dim light of mountain, Kíli’s usually warm brown eyes seemed almost black with rage. I held his dark gaze, waiting for him to yell at me, to demand answers. His jaw clenched and his hands bundled into fists before he finally tore himself away and marched down the corridor after the others without a word. I stared after him for a moment before following.  
_I’ve never seen him like this before._

Bilbo led us into a smaller room – though ‘smaller’ in Erebor, it seemed, meant fairly large as opposed to extremely large – in which several long wooden tables, still littered with dust-covered dishes and goblets, stood stretching down the room, resembling what must have once been the dining hall. The room itself was dull, lit only by a few torches, rife with copious layers of dust and cobwebs. At the head of one of the tables, his back to us, sat a gloriously familiar white-haired dwarf.  
“Balin?” I called out and he leapt up with uncanny speed at the sound of my voice, letting out a loud cheer when he saw me.  
Dwalin immediately appeared from around a corner and sprinted towards me.  
“Dwalin!” I let him pick me up in a rib-crushing hug, locking my arms round his neck.  
“Lassie, I swear one o’ these days the amount o’ worry yeh cause will kill me!”  
“Would it help if I promised never to trap myself in a burning town again?”  
“Nah, yeh’d never keep it.” He laughed and set me back on my feet, knocking his huge forehead gently against mine.  
Behind me Bifur was hugging Bofur, Nori had practically leapt into Kíli’s arms and Fíli was clapping Balin on the back. The rest of the company soon joined us, having heard the cheers, and I was hugging everybody.  
I kept Ori in an especially long and tight hug.  
“So how was the dragon?” I asked him casually.  
“Oh, you know, we let him chase us all through the caverns and then tried to drown him in molten gold.”  
“Something to put in your book.”  
“Aye,” he chuckled and released me. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”  
“Me too, Ori,” I said, smacking him on the shoulder.  
“Have yeh seen Thorin yet?” Dwalin asked me quietly and I nodded.  
“In the treasure chamber.”  
Dwalin let out a long sigh.  “He’s barely left it since the dragon went down.”  
I studied his hard face; the deep frown above his sad dark eyes.  
“Is it really the…?” I found myself unable to finish the question. Dwalin’s expression told me everything I already knew.  
He glanced over my shoulder and I saw him give a brief incline of his head. I looked back to see Balin walking back towards us away from the merriment of all the reunions. I turned and followed Dwalin further into a corner of the room where the three of us huddled together, speaking in hushed whispers.  
“Everythin’ happened so fast,” Dwalin began. “We were all so preoccupied with the dragon we barely noticed the change in Thorin.”  
“Almost as soon as the dragon went down, the ravens began to flock once again,” Balin continued. “I looked back and Thorin was making his way back towards the mountain. Not a word was spoken, not even for Fíli and Kíli, he just started searching for the stone.”  
“He warned me this could happen,” I told them, to their surprise. “He made me promise not to say anything, but he was worried the sickness would strike him. I never thought it could happen so quickly or I would have told you, I swear -”  
“It’s alright, lassie,” Balin placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I suspected this would happen too. I saw it in his grandfather before, but never like this. With Thrór the sickness took hold slowly, we barely noticed at first.”  
“What do we do?” I asked, though I didn’t expect an answer. None was given, except a worried glance between the two brothers.  
“He has good hours and bad,” Balin eventually offered.  
“Aye,” Dwalin nodded solemnly. “We just need to keep remindin’ him o’ what’s important.”  
“Perhaps finding the Arkenstone will help, it might calm him to know it’s safe?” My suggestion was weak at best and they both knew it, though they didn’t say it. Balin gave a soft sigh and Dwalin nodded slowly.  
“Aye, lass.”  
“I think I’ll go speak to him,” I told them.  
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Balin said with a worried glance over to the others. I turned and saw Kíli frowning over at us. “He won’t be happy if you interrupt him, and his temper’s been much shorter than usual since we opened that door.”  
“I have to try. He confided in me about this, maybe he’ll listen to me.”  
Dwalin and Balin exchanged one more look before Dwalin finally nodded at me.  
“Alright, but the moment he gets even a wee bit irritable yeh get out of there and come back here.”  
I nodded and turned to leave, exchanging a final glance at Kíli before I slipped away. His frown became a soft glare as he realised where I was going.

Thorin was no longer in the treasure chamber when I got there, and in the vast array of hallways and stairs surrounding the place, I thought finding him might be a bigger challenge than actually talking to him. I retraced my steps back up the stairs we’d come down with Bilbo so I was above the giant gold piles. I spotted the door that Thorin had come out of and noticed it led into a room with several storeys above it. I had to go up another set of stairs before I found the stone walkway connecting to it and entered it through an aged stone door. As I went in I could hear muffled movement around the floor below me and, as quietly as I could, I crept down the stairs towards it.  
Thorin was pacing back and forth, organising scrolls and pieces of aged parchment, many of which had been slightly, if not completely burned. He was muttering to himself in Khuzdul and when he turned slightly towards me, still inspecting the scrolls in his hand, his face was fierce.  
I swallowed hard before softly calling his name. His eyes darted up, the dark blue irises burning for a moment before his expression softened and a small smile broke over his face. He placed the scrolls on the desk beside him and strode towards me.  
“Vana,” he breathed my name and I exhaled loudly before returning his smile. He stretched his arms out and I met him in a long embrace.  
“You’re alright, all of you?”  
“Aye, we’re fine. Barely a scratch between us.”  
“Thank Mahal,” he said softly, pulling away though he kept his hands on my shoulders.  
“I’m so happy you’re all alive. And the dragon?”  
“Dead,” I nodded. “Bard shot him with a black arrow.”  
“Bard.” Thorin’s smile faded as he said the bowman’s name. “He lived up to his ancestry after all then?”  
“Aye, he did. The people of Laketown are calling him dragon-slayer.”  
Thorin let out a small, disapproving grunt and turned away from me, back to the desk. I cleared my throat slightly, feeling as if I was treading on thin ice.  
“They will likely come to the Mountain. It’s their closest shelter, and they’ll remember you promised them some compensation.”  
“I remember my words,” Thorin said and I shivered at how dark his voice had become. When he looked up at me his eyes had visibly darkened, like a small eclipse of his usual stern, kind expression. “They threatened our freedom, our success, our lives, and then expected us to act as honoured guests as soon as they saw a profit in us. Well I shall show them I am not so easily bought.”  
“Thorin -”  
“I have half a mind to mount that Master’s head on the door for his impertinent greed!” His voice grew louder, his tone sharper and I found myself unconsciously shrinking back. “How dare any Man think he can threaten a Dwarf out of his own heritage!”  
He paused, glaring at me and I waited a few breaths to make sure he was really finished. When he said nothing else I made sure to speak softly.  
“Thorin, do you remember what you told me when we were at Beorn’s?”   
He frowned in confusion at me before his glance moved away from me as he thought back.  
“Fíli and Kíli have to survive,” he whispered.  
“Yes,” I nodded. “But before that we spoke of -” Before I could finish Thorin was marching past me.  
“Thorin, wait!”  
He turned back to face me but his face was blank, his eyes growing steadily fiercer as the fire burned behind them.  
“The people of Laketown think they can march in here and demand a share of Dwarf gold because they had the _courtesy -_ ” he spat. “- not to kill us for passing through their town. If they want a war, they will have one. But first we need the Arkenstone, else the other dwarf armies will not support us.”  
I gaped at him as he turned away, trying to process what he had just said.  
_Did he say war???_  
“Thorin?” I called after him as he marched down the stairs and out into the treasure chamber. “Where are you going?”  
“To send a raven!”


	5. Fili's Last Nerve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's sickness gets worse, the others do their best to cope, Fili's patience finally snaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm stuck in Fox Glacier for a few days in the pouring rain :( What better cure than some Hobbitness?

_ Vana _

 “Any sign of it?” Thorin demanded.   
“Nothin’ here!” Dwalin replied.   
“Nothing here!” Ori called from further away.   
“Keep searching!” Thorin ordered.   
“That jewel could be anywhere!” Glóin called.   
“The Arkenstone is in these halls,” Thorin insisted. “Find it! All of you! No one rests until it is found!”   
“Right, you heard him! Keep searchin’!” Dwalin ordered.   
And search we did. I don’t know how long we combed through as much of the treasure as we could stand but the sheer density of each gold pile meant that it took hours just to get through any given section, and the chamber stretched on for miles. Eventually my search radius met with Balin’s and I could see he was exhausted.   
“Five minutes?” I asked him as quietly as the echoing cavern would allow and he nodded, following me to a nearby stair case where we could see Thorin still pacing on one of the balconies above the treasure chamber.   
“This is becoming ridiculous,” I muttered to Balin. “It feels like we’ve been searching for days. At this rate it’ll take us years to find that stone.”   
“There’s nothing to be done about it, lass,” he sighed. “He’ll only get worse as long as it’s missing.”   
“And if it’s found?” I turned to face him. “If one of us should happen to stumble upon it in the next few minutes, would it make him better or worse?”   
His face fell when I looked him in the eye and he released a long, shuddering breath. It seemed as if he was holding back tears and my heart broke as he slowly shook his head.   
“I don’t know, lassie. But he’s so bent on finding it and it’s true that the other dwarf kingdoms swore their fealty to that stone. Thrór saw to that.”   
I swallowed hard and looked back up to where Thorin was pacing.   
_We will get no peace until we find the Arkenstone, and finding the Arkenstone will not bring peace. He will wage war on the Men of Laketown with or without the backing of the other Dwarf armies. So without the Arkenstone, we will be fifteen against hundreds and Thorin will never rest until we find the Arkenstone or die defending the Mountain. Yet with the Arkenstone, Thorin will start a full-scale war between the Dwarves and Men, and possibly the Elves as well._  
I could well understand the defeat in Balin’s eyes now, though it didn’t make the sight of him any easier to bear now.   
“Well,” I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady. “We just have to keep trying to reason with him.”   
I took a deep breath and got to my feet, turning to make my way up the stairs until Balin gently caught my hand with his own.   
“It’s no use, lassie,” he said, his voice hoarse from the emotions he was holding back. “He’s not himself right now. Whatever you say, he won’t listen.”   
“One of us has to try, and you can’t right now,” I replied gently. “Thorin confided in me about this, he must have some trust in me. I was too soft before, so maybe if I try again he’ll hear me.”   
“It’s dangerous, Vana. We don’t know what Thorin’s capable of right now.”   
“I’ll be fine,” I told him, forcing a smile onto my face. “He won’t harm me.”   
He regarded me for a moment and then sighed and I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before leaving him still sitting on the stone steps.

_ Kíli _

“Argh!” Kíli winced at the sharp pain erupting from the side of his head and glared over at his brother.   
“What was that for?”   
“You’re staring at her again and leaving all the searching to me!” Fíli hissed, flicking another coin at his head. Kíli let out a small growl as it bounced off his temple.   
“I wasn’t staring!” He muttered darkly, glancing up at Vana who was making her way over the walkways towards Thorin.   
“Kee, I cannot believe I have to say this _again_ , but if you want to talk to her just do it, please?”   
“I don’t want to talk to her.”   
“No, you just want to stare at her and sulk like a child.”   
Kíli shot his brother another glare. Fíli only sighed and shook his head in such a patronising way that he found himself fighting the urge to punch the older prince.   
“How can you not be angry at her too? She knew about Uncle’s gold sickness and said nothing!”   
The look Fíli gave him made Kíli’s heart sink.   
“You knew?”   
“Aye,” Fíli said softly, combing through the gold beneath them absent-mindedly. “Âmad may have said something to me before we left.”   
“Did _everyone_ know except me?”   
This time when Fíli looked up, Kíli saw his mother – the time he stole some coppers out of her purse to buy a sweet at the market, right before she smacked him around the head and sent him to his room with no dinner. The memory flashed before him when Fíli lobbed a sizeable gemstone at his shoulder.   
“Mahal!” he grunted loudly. “Stop throwing things at me!”   
“What good would it have done you to know?” Fíli hissed with such venom Kíli half-expected him to spit in his face. “Would it have prevented Uncle’s sickness? Would it have put any of our minds at ease? He told Vana something in confidence, as Âmad told me. Would you not have done the same in our shoes?”   
“That’s different! Vana isn’t his nephew!”   
Fíli only scoffed. “You’re determined to blame her for something aren’t you? First it’s the Elf-maid, then it’s the bowman, now you want to blame this mess on her as well?”   
“I don’t blame her -”   
“You could have fooled me!” Fíli’s eyes burned into Kíli like a flaming arrow to the heart, the blue of his eyes now as dark as the sky at dusk. He suddenly felt incredibly small.   
“What would you have me do?” he muttered sulkily.   
“Speak to her -”   
“I’ve tried!”   
“Try again!”   
Before Kíli could retort there came a loud crash that resounded around the entire cavern, so much so that it took him a few seconds to find the source; Thorin had thrown a gold plate to the ground above them and it was still rattling on the floor as he glared at Vana, who was staring wide-eyed at him with a look in her eye that Kíli hadn’t seen since Bree. His instinct was to run to her side but the gold beneath his feet wouldn’t allow him to move that fast, slithering beneath his feet and giving way so he felt as if he was walking through melting cheese.   
“What would you know of these matters?!” Thorin exclaimed at her.   
“Thorin,” her voice was low, but firm, and despite the distance the acoustics of the cavern meant the entire Company could hear what was transpiring between the Dwarf king and the woman.   
“I only meant that, seeing as Smaug is dead, there’s nothing stopping the dwarves of Erebor returning here again, Arkenstone or no Arkenstone. Surely it would be better to wait until we have more bodies here to search, and instead put our efforts into rebuilding the kingdom?”   
“Just as I thought,” Thorin spat with a look of such derision as Kíli had never seen before. “You have no understanding of our ways. The seven armies of the dwarves swore an oath to the wielder of the King’s Jewel, no other. Not one of them will honour me as their true king until it sits in my hands.” He turned away from her but she only started forward.   
“But the stone can only _be_ here! We’ll find it eventually, but there’s no way the fifteen of us can find it in this place by ourselves.” She waited for a response but none came, and so she ventured a little more gently. “Thorin, I assure you, your people will respect you as king with or without -”   
“WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF THIS?” Thorin yelled, snapping round and making Vana flinch back. Before anyone could say anything his uncle was advancing on her and Vana was backed against a wall. “YOU ARE NO DWARF! YOU ARE A HUMAN STRAY! A STREET URCHIN I TOOK PITY ON! WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF LEADING? OR OF LOYALTY?”   
The beat of silence that followed Thorin’s outburst could have floored a troll. Kíli’s heart pounded in his ears as Vana raised her head slightly, forcing her expression to harden, and when her response came it may as well have been a stranger’s voice that spoke it:   
“Everything you taught me, Thorin.”  
Thorin’s chest was heaving with the effort of shouting and Kíli could only watch in horror as his uncle turned slowly to face the rest of the Company, who were staring up at him with looks of fear and shock, all except Dwalin who, Kíli noted, looked on his oldest friend with pure, unmasked sadness. For a brief moment Thorin’s eyes found Kíli and the young prince barely recognised him. Even though he was far above him, Kíli felt he may as well have been in another world. Thorin regarded them all before turning back to Vana, who was staring determinedly at him, her jaw clenched and the vein in her neck throbbing furiously.   
“You will not speak of these matters again,” Thorin hissed. “To anyone. If I hear you mention the Arkenstone again, I will banish you from this kingdom.”   
Kíli opened his mouth to protest, to scream, to yell at his uncle, but Fíli’s firm hand on his shoulder stayed him, and when he glanced at him his older brother shook his head sadly before looking back to Vana. Kíli followed his gaze and saw her lips slightly parted, as if to say something, but she thought better of it and instead edged past Thorin and disappeared from Kíli’s sight.   
Kíli was breathing hard now, glaring at his uncle with such contempt as he’d ever felt. Never in his whole life had he imagined he could hate Thorin as much as he did in that moment. He understood now why his mother never told him, why Vana didn’t say anything. He could never have dealt with this image of Thorin throughout the quest.   
He looked back to his brother and with a brief nod they began clambering over the gold piles out of the treasure chamber in search of Vana.

_ Vana _

My heart thudded in my ears in an incessant drumroll as my legs carried me away from the balcony with no real direction. It seemed as though no time had passed when I rounded a corner out of the dark corridors and found myself face to face with yet more gold. The treasure chamber stretched throughout such a distance around the inner part of the mountain  it seemed as though there was no escape from the infernal stuff. It should have been a magnificent sight, instead I felt nauseous. I turned towards the nearest staircase and climbed above the gold piles, but that only offered me an even better view of the sheer monstrosity that was the treasure hoard. The quiet of the chamber made my breathing sound like a soft thunder at the beginning of a storm and the reality of the past few days came crashing around my ears. I buried my face in my hands and let the tears come hard and fast, pouring out of me in a few choked sobs. When I finally regained a hold on myself and pulled my hands away I found myself faced with the two princes, standing at the foot of the gold piles in silence.   
I wiped my eyes furiously before addressing them.   
“What are you doing here?”   
“We wanted to make sure you were alright,” Fíli said kindly, making his way towards me. While he hauled his heavy dwarven feet over the gold and up the stairs, Kíli remained where he was, eyeing me like a shy child about to be told off. His eyes met mine briefly and almost immediately he looked away again and murmured something.   
“What?” I frowned at him.   
“Are you?” he said more clearly, looking back up at me. “Alright I mean?”   
“Aye, never been better,” I scoffed. “Your uncle wants me gone from this mountain. He no longer trusts the human stray he took pity on.”   
“Vana you can’t take anything he says to heart,” Fíli said softly, taking a seat next to me. “He’s not himself.”   
“I know that,” I suppressed the need to roll my eyes. “But I don’t know what else to do. I won’t stand by and do nothing as he descends into madness.”   
“Are you suggesting that’s what we’re doing?” Kíli asked darkly and I turned to glare at him.   
“Well I don’t see you coming up with any bright ideas.”   
“Maybe if I had been told before -”   
“Right, that’s it,” Fíli barked, hauling me up by the arm sharply before marching me down the stairs before I could so much as yelp in protest. Unceremoniously, he shoved me into the gold pile before slipping down and grabbing his brother’s arm. Despite Kíli’s rabid Khuzdul phrases – which I could only assume were either slurs on threats based on the eye-rolling he received from Fíli – he was also hauled roughly onto the gold pile where he was shoved next to me. We were now both sitting facing each other while Fíli got to one knee beside us, frowning at us like a disgruntled parent.   
“I’ve had enough of this. You two are sorting this out right here, right now.”   
“Fíli,” I addressed him softly with a warning look. “What are you doing?”   
“You are both going to look each other in the eye, apologise for your wrongdoings, make amends, and throw one punch for good measure.”   
“Oh, save us,”  Kíli muttered, shaking his head. “You’re acting like Âmad!”   
“I take that as a compliment,” Fíli rebutted with a sarcastic tilt of his head before his expression turned serious again. “And just for that compliment you, Kíli, will go first. Look Vana in the eye and apologise.”  
“This is ridic -” I began but was cut off with a yelp as Fíli sharply backhanded my shoulder.   
“Hush! You’ll get your chance to speak.”   
“Bastard…” I muttered, rubbing my shoulder.   
“Ssh!” Fíli hissed, putting a finger to his lips before turning back to Kíli. “Go ahead, brother.”   
Kíli sighed deeply, as he waited for me to meet his eyes. With a final glare at Fíli I turned to face Kíli and immediately his face hardened.   
“I will admit I was jealous of Bard. I’m a Dwarf, and we protect what we covet, including our Ones. I thought you were either unaware of his attentions -” The need to roll my eyes was overpowering but I forced them to remain fixed on his. “- or you were encouraging them. I know now that was wrong of me and I’m sorry for that. I’m also sorry I said you didn’t love me. I know you do, but I’m very aware of how different love is for Men than it is for Dwarves.”   
He paused then to look at me, really look at me, and I noticed the shine of the gold in his eyes, making them appear almost amber in colour, warmer and gentler. His expression was softer and I watched as he took a slightly shuddering breath before continuing, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on mine.   
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I wronged you, doubted you. I love you so much that it hurts sometimes, because I can’t possibly understand why you would choose a short, near beardless dwarf like me when you could have any Man of your choosing.”   
“Well you’re a Prince, which helps matters,” I teased and his lips quirked up in a soft smirk.   
“That must be it.”   
I giggled and shook my head slightly before regarding him more seriously.   
“I’m sorry too. About what happened in Mirkwood and in Laketown. It’s just that…” I cut myself off as the images from the vision flashed through my mind.   
_Fíli falling from the tower.  
Kíli_ _lying dead on the icy ground.  
Bilbo weeping at Thorin’s side.  
_ I shook my head fiercely, my nails digging into the palm of my hand and forced myself to meet his eyes again. His eyes were wide with concern, the dark brown and golden shimmers hitting me with a new force, reminding me of the life that was going to be lost if I could not do something, change something.   
“Kíli,” I whispered his name, savouring the sound of it on my tongue. “I have kept secrets from you. Not just about Thorin, but about other things too. There’s…there’s a reason I reacted to Tauriel the way I did, but it’s nothing to do with her being an Elf and it’s not because I was jealous.”   
Kíli frowned slightly but made no response, only nodding for me to continue.   
“I can’t tell you just now, believe me I would if I could,” I swallowed hard as I felt tears building up once again. “Please believe me, I will tell you when I can, but until then please, please trust me?”   
For a moment Kíli looked almost afraid and I could see the battle raging in his eyes as he processed my words. I waited for the frustration, the demands that I tell him everything, the insistence that he could help if he knew, but instead he only nodded and whispered three magic words:   
“I trust you.”   
I released a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding and closed my eyes in relief.   
“Thank you,” I whispered. Before I could open my eyes again I felt his arms wrap around me in a gloriously familiar embrace and I held him close to me for the first time in what felt like months, burying my face in his neck to breathe in him. I felt him twist slightly in my arms until his lips were by my ear.   
“ _Amrâlimê._ ”  
The word sent a small shiver through me from head to foot and I clutched at him tighter.   
“Well,” Fíli suddenly cleared his throat next to us and we pulled away abruptly, having almost forgotten he was there.  “That’s done then. All except the punch for good luck.” He smirked and winked at us and we both glanced at each other with a chuckle.   
“How could we forget?” I shrugged before swinging a full-bodied punch into Kíli’s left shoulder.   
“Argh! Mahal!” Kíli exclaimed, recoiling slightly with a mock glare. “Woman, at least pull your punches!”   
“Oh don’t be such a baby!” I grinned, sticking my tongue out at him. His low growl was the only warning I got before he lunged towards me at full speed, shoving me roughly down the pile of gold coins and onto the hard stone floor. I landed on my back, hard, and groaned loudly at the loud shouts of laughter erupting from the two dwarrows above me.   
“What’s goin’ on here?” Dwalin barked angrily from the doorway. I tilted my head back to see him frowning at us upside down.   
“We were just setting some things straight,” Fíli told him, still chuckling until Dwalin fixed them both with a serious look. I immediately got to my feet as the brothers’ laughter ceased.   
“What is it?”   
“Thorin’s called us all to the gate. The survivors from Laketown are settling into Dale as we speak.”   
“What’s he planning?” I asked with a heavy sense of dread.   
“I’m not exactly sure lass,” Dwalin shook his head. “But we need to go now.” He nodded for us to follow and we did, exchanging a similar look of dismay between us as we went.

Dwalin led us to the front entrance where the rest of the Company were hauling large amounts of debris towards the gateway.   
“We will need more stone to fill the gateway!”   
Thorin’s sharp orders echoed around the vast cavern which was glowing a dim orange in the torchlight. I hadn’t realised that, being inside the Mountain with no direct contact of sunlight, I had completely lost track of time. The sky outside was dark though within the walls of Dale many fires had now been lit, giving the night a grim, eerie glow. For a moment I comforted myself with the knowledge that Bard and his children were safe within the walls before Thorin’s cold eyes caught sight of us. I lowered my gaze as he started towards us.   
“Fíli!” he barked. “You and Dwalin start laying the foundation. Kíli, help Bofur set up the ropes for hauling the larger stones up.”   
I felt a reassuring pat on my shoulder as Dwalin moved past me with Fíli towards the gateway. Kíli, however, didn’t move from my side and I felt his hand take mine. I turned to look up at him and he gave me a soothing smile.   
“Kíli, did you not hear me?”   
“Yes, uncle, I heard you,” Kíli muttered darkly, barely glancing at Thorin.   
“It’s alright,” I whispered. “Do as you’re bid, I’ll be fine.”   
He regarded me silently before giving my hand a brief squeeze.   
“I’ll be right over there,” he said softly, kissing my forehead before heading over to Bofur who was waiting patiently with a handful of ropes. He caught my eye and sent me a cheerful smile which I tried my best to return, until Thorin stepped into my line of sight.   
“You,” he addressed me disdainfully. “Go and find Bilbo. He’ll need help bringing the carts.” He nodded briefly to his right and I looked to find Bilbo waiting in the middle of the walkway, staring at Thorin with a sad expression. Without a word, I nodded and obeyed the king.

_ Kíli  _

Kíli had worked on a few building jobs in his life, mainly when the mines in Ered Luin required a large amount of repairs and he had offered his help, but never anything on this scale. The doorway to the Mountain was hundreds of feet high and many of the broken pieces of door and wall were easily three times the size and weight of Bombur. Bofur showed him how to fix the ropes over the standing pillars to give them enough leverage to move the larger pieces of rubble while his brother and Dwalin began to lay the flatter pieces across the floor of the doorway. When the ropes were ready, Kíli tied one end securely around the stone while Glóin, Bofur and Bifur heaved the other end to lift it so Kíli could support the remaining weight and manoeuvre it over to the slowly forming wall. He had only moved a few pieces when he heard his name being called and turned to see Vana and Bilbo filling one of the carts with as many pieces of rubble as they could lift.   
“Can you help us pull it?” she asked him.   
Kíli nodded and called Nori over to take his place. He hauled a few larger pieces of stone into the cart before picking one of the handles up, motioning for Vana to take the other while Bilbo pushed from behind. As they pulled it towards the slow-forming barricade, Thorin marched past them, surveying their efforts.    
“I want this fortress made safe by sun-up!” he ordered. “This mountain was hard won! I will not see it taken again!” He cast a dark look around them all, his sight landing on Vana for longer than Kíli was comfortable with. He glanced sideways at her and saw her duck her head to avoid his gaze, the worried expression on her face sending a surge of anger through him. He turned to face his uncle once again, defiantly dropping the handle of the cart so it landed on the ground with a resounding thud.  
 “The people of Laketown have nothing!” he said loudly, his anger turning to desperation as his uncle’s dark gaze turned to him. “They came to us in need. They have lost everything!”   
“Do not tell me what they have lost,” Thorin said slowly and Kíli suppressed a wince at the threat in his voice. “I know well enough their hardship.”   
Thorin turned to look upon the city and Kíli turned to look at Vana who was wearing an expression of utter defeat as she watched Thorin.   
“Those who have lived through dragon-fire should rejoice! They have much to be grateful for.” His uncle continued to stare at Dale before spinning round suddenly and leaning down to heave a large piece of rubble onto the rising barricade. “More stone! Bring more stone to the gate!”

It was almost morning when the barricade was finally finished, stretching nearly fifty feet high, a solid barrier from the outside world. Kíli found himself thinking of the fortress walls in Ered Luin, remembering how safe the mountain halls made him feel as a dwarfling. He had always imagined Erebor to be much the same, yet he looked upon their newly erected barricade with unease and even guilt; suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be on the other side of the wall.   
“I think it would be best,” Balin’s kind voice broke through his reverie and Kíli turned to see the exhausted dwarf regarding Thorin carefully as he surveyed their work with a blank expression. “If we got some sleep. We’ve been working all night Thorin, we need some rest.”   
Thorin turned to look at Balin and for a moment Kíli thought he was going to yell at his old advisor as his expression grew fierce. Instead, Thorin only shook his head and muttered his response.   
“Do as you will, but someone must take watch.”   
“I will,” Dwalin volunteered immediately. “I’ll inform yeh of any sign of movement.”   
Thorin nodded and walked away without a word. _Back to the treasure chamber,_ Kíli thought to himself with sadness. He exchanged a regretful look with his brother before glancing around the room to find there was no sign of Vana.   
“She left a couple of hours ago,” Bilbo said softly from beside him. “I saw her head back to the dining hall.”   
Kíli nodded and gripped the hobbit’s shoulder briefly in thanks. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dwalin, Bombur, Bifur and Dori milling around the giant bell that had fallen in the hall. Frowning slightly, he walked closer.   
“What are you doing?” he asked them.   
“There’s no use in this bell just lyin’ around,” Dwalin grumbled. “We just want to put it back where it belongs.”   
For a moment Kíli looked into the old warrior’s tired face; it seemed to have aged in the mere days they had been here.   
“Do you need some help?” he finally asked.   
“No, lad,” he shook his head with a small smile. “Go and see our Vana.”   
Kíli gave a brief nod before heading back through the mountain, remembering the route they had taken when they had first entered. Going through the treasure chamber, he allowed himself a small moment of relief when he couldn’t see Thorin amongst the gold piles.   
Once he reached the dining hall, he witnessed something he never thought he’d see: Vana was sweeping. She seemed to be furiously attacking the floor of the hall with the brush, sweeping the dust into piles against the farthest wall and Kíli saw on one of the freshly dusted tables piles of neatly folded blankets and cushions. He caught her eye as she noticed him, her head whipping up, the concentration still etched clearly across her face.   
“I see you’ve swapped masonry for housekeeping,” Kíli remarked lightly and her expression softened slightly.   
“I went exploring,” she said, leaning the broom against the wall and walking back towards the table where she’d left the blankets. “I found some of the bedrooms, a few levels up. Some of the beds weren’t even made.” She picked up the blankets. “I thought we could use these for sleeping. I didn’t think anyone would feel comfortable using the bedrooms until…” She trailed off.   
_Until they’ve been properly cleaned? Until we’ve buried the dead that still lie here? Until the oncoming war Uncle is determined to start is over?_  
Kíli played various endings in his head as Vana started laying blankets out on the floor.   
“This is very thoughtful,” he said quietly, unable to think of a better response. It earned him a weak smile from her.   
“I don’t know what else I can do,” she murmured. Her voice was so small and crushed that Kíli felt the overwhelming rush to hold her close, to be her shield. Instead he picked up some of the cushions from the table.   
“Let me help you,” he said softly, and at her nod he began to lay them out on the floor, distributing them between the makeshift beds.

Collectively, the company got little to no sleep over the next few hours. Kíli lay next to Vana, holding her against his chest in the hope she would rest, but he knew she didn’t sleep even when she eventually closed her eyes. Her slim hands were curled against his chest, just where she could feel his heart beating and her head rested beneath his neck so he could smell her hair without being smothered by her unruly curls. Her hair hadn’t always been curly, he remembered, but she had been wearing it in a braid for so long that it now curled so naturally, almost like a dwarrowdam’s. Even in the dim light of the dusty dining hall the copper hues still glowed with hints of red. He smiled softly as he slowly stroked the soft hair on the very top of her head – the most intimate of gestures – not caring if the others might see.


	6. The Gathering Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard attempts to make a deal but Thorin is far too eager to go to war.  
> I would be very surprised if half the Company don't develop blood pressure issues after this, especially poor Vana.

_ Vana _

It wasn’t too long before we were roused by Glóin’s announcement of a sighting at the barricade. I moaned slightly as I pulled myself out of Kíli’s warm embrace, already missing the safe comfort of his arms. He took my hand as I stood, pressing a swift but sweet kiss to my forehead before we followed the others back to the entrance hall. Dwalin was stacking a small selection of weapons at the foot of the barricade as we approached and I walked towards him with a concerned frown.   
“What’s going on?”   
“The bargeman rides for the Mountain,” Dwalin muttered darkly, glancing at me before the cavern began to echo with swift, heavy footsteps.  
Thorin stormed through the piles of rubble, his eyes fixed upon the barricade.   
“Come on,” he ordered to Dwalin and his nephews as he passed and everyone stopped to watch as he went. Thorin didn’t even spare us a glance as they ascended the steps to the top while the rest of the company and I remained on the ground, listening silently.  
The sound of hoof beats reached our ears and not long after a familiar voice.   
“Hail, Thorin, son of Thráin!” Bard called in a slightly rehearsed manner. “We are glad to find you alive beyond hope.”  
“Why do you come to the gates of the King under the Mountain armed for war?” Thorin called back.   
“Why does the King under the Mountain fence himself in? Like a robber in his hold?” Bard’s response made me sigh in frustration. _  
_ “Perhaps it is because I am expecting to be robbed!” Thorin retorted, as expected.   
“My lord,” Bard was now all politeness. “We have not come to rob you, but to seek fair settlement. Will you not speak with me?”   
I looked up to see Thorin nod and indicate for Bard to come closer. He then made his way back down the steps towards the small hole left in the barricade, the purpose of which I now understood. _  
_ Dwalin, Fíli and Kíli followed and Kíli came to stand next to me and whisper in my ear:   
“There’s an army of elves in Dale.”   
“What?” I hissed, shocked at this new piece of information.   
“The city is overrun with them. They’re out there right now on the walls.”   
“Why?” I rubbed my forehead in exasperation. “Why would they come now?”   
“Isn’t it obvious?” Fíli muttered darkly. “They want their gems.”   
“But why send an army?” Ori whispered, overhearing our conversation.   
“To intimidate us,” Glóin answered him gruffly. “When was the last time you heard of an elf merely asking a dwarf for something?”   
Thorin was now standing before the hole and we each took a few steps forward to try and hear.   
“I am listening,” he said softly.   
“On behalf of the people of Laketown,” Bard’s response was muffled slightly from the stone. “I ask that you honour your pledge. A share of the treasure so that they may rebuild their lives.”   
To my horror, Thorin shook his head.   
“I will not treat with any man while an armed host lies before my door.”   
“That armed host will attack this mountain if we do not come to terms,” Bard stated pointedly.   
“He’s threatening us,” Fíli muttered.   
“No,” I said without pause. Both Kíli and Fíli looked round at me with odd expressions. “He’s trying to warn us,” I insisted. “Thranduil is the one threatening us.”   
Meanwhile, Thorin was shaking his head again, his expression eerily calm.   
“Your threats do not sway me,” he told Bard.   
“What of your conscience? Does it not tell you our cause is just?”   
Thorin made no response, but I could see him tense slightly.   
“Our people offered you help,” Bard pressed on. “And in return you brought upon them only ruin and death.”   
“When did the Men of Laketown come to our aid but for the promise of rich reward?” Thorin snapped, visibly angry now.   
“A bargain was struck!”   
“A bargain?” Thorin growled. “What choice did we have but to barter our birthright for blankets and food? To ransom our future in exchange for our freedom? You call that a fair trade?” Thorin lowered his voice to a hiss. “Tell me, Bard the _dragon slayer_ , why should I honour such terms?”   
The tension was unbearable. Each breath was an effort to keep quiet while we waited for Bard’s response.   
“Because you gave us your word. Does that mean nothing?”   
Thorin turned away, leaning back against the stone and turning his gaze to us. We all watched expectantly until he turned to face the bowman once more.   
“Be gone!” he shouted. “Ere our arrows fly!”   
We gaped at him as Bard let out a frustrated grunt.   
I went to speak, to demand what in the name of the seven fathers he was thinking, but stopped short as Thorin’s icy glare met my own. He held my gaze for a moment before turning to ascend the steps once more. The rest of the company followed closely and I felt Kíli nudge me forward to join. Once we were all at the top I caught sight of Bard riding away on a white horse, back towards the city – which was indeed covered in elves, coated in golden armour that made them stand out garishly against the dull, crumbling walls of Dale.   
“This…” I trailed off a little as Kíli caught my eye, his face slightly pale. “This is bad…”   
“What are you doing?” Bilbo’s voice sounded from behind us and we turned to see him glaring at Thorin like an angry parent. “You cannot go to war.”   
“This does not concern you,” Thorin answered without looking at him.   
“Excuse me?” Bilbo took a furious step towards him, pointing towards the city. “But just in case you haven’t noticed there is an army of elves out there! Not to mention several hundred angry fishermen! We are, in fact, outnumbered.”   
“Not for much longer,” Thorin said, taking a few steps towards him. Bilbo seemed about to respond but faltered, frowning at him.   
“What does that mean?”   
“It means, Master Baggins,” Thorin leaned in close to him, speaking softly. “You should never underestimate dwarves.” He turned to stand on top of the steps and addressed the rest of us. “We have reclaimed Erebor. Now, we defend it.”   
His icy gaze returned and went to me for a moment before he turned to make his way back down the steps.   
“What does that mean?” I whispered to Balin. “‘Never underestimate dwarves?’”   
“He’s sent for his cousin, Dáin Ironfoot, asking that he brings an army from the Iron Hills to defend the Mountain.”   
“He’s -” I cut myself off with a muttered curse, looking down towards Thorin who was nearing the bottom of the steps. “No, this is not going to happen!” I said with a new surge of anger-fuelled confidence. Before Balin could stop me I began to jog down the steps.   
“Thorin!” I called after him. He ignored me, striding back into the Mountain and I almost growled. “Thorin stop!” Again he ignored me and I was furious by the time I reached the bottom of the steps.   
“You can’t be serious!” I wanted to scream at him. “Don’t you see what’s happening here? These people have nothing left. Their home was destroyed by the dragon and they’ve come to the people who professed to be their allies for help. Sound familiar?”   
Thorin’s steps faltered and he stood utterly still, keeping his back to me. I swallowed hard and continued:   
“The Elves abandoned you once, when your people needed help. There is more than enough gold to spare that you can prove yourself a better ally than Thranduil, that you’re more interested in helping them than gaining from them -”   
“Do not -” His voice was low and hard, like a distant rock fall. “Compare me -” He turned slowly to face me, his expression thunderous. “To that elven _wretch_!” He spat the last word and stormed towards me. I felt myself shrink back, despite my best efforts to remain still and face him, but he was striding towards me with his fists clenched as if he meant to hit me, and he didn’t stop until he was right in my face.   
“I will not debate my decisions with a daughter of _Man_! I am King under the Mountain! And I will not be spoken to with such impertinence by anyone, let alone the likes of you! The people of Lake-town should be happy they have shelter and aid from others, for that is far more than we were ever offered. If you are more concerned with their hardships than our own then go back to your own kind!”   
He was so close I could feel his spit on my face but I didn’t dare move a muscle as his glare bore into me. For many long seconds, all I could hear was my heart hammering in my ears.   
_Is that what you want? Is that an order from the King?_ I wanted to ask but my mouth was so dry in fear of the answer. Instead I forced myself to hold Thorin’s gaze, silently willing him to come out of this phase of madness, to become lucid enough that I could trust him not to banish me or run me through.   
Thorin only regarded me coldly, his eyes fixed on me even as he addressed the rest of the company.   
“Make sure the bridge is destroyed! Then meet me in the armoury.” His eyes narrowed into a fierce glare before he turned and marched away with new determination. I released a shaky breath as he went, raising my hand slightly to find it trembling.   
Another hand appeared over it and I looked up to find Kíli’s eyes wide with concern as he took my hand to still the shaking. I took another unsteady breath as he pulled me gently into his arms and I rested my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes and focusing on his breathing to calm down.   
A loud crunching sound echoed above us and I looked up to find Dwalin, Bifur, Bombur and Dori pulling hard at makeshift levers, tipping the massive stone head off of the statue and sending it tumbling downwards. With a mighty crash it hit the walkway before the gate, causing it to crumble into the small spring below. 

_ Kíli _

The armoury was many levels down, in the depths of the mountain where their only sources of light were the torches lit by Thorin as he went, several feet in front of the rest of them. Kíli kept a firm grip on Vana’s hand as they descended the stairs, watching Thorin intently. Her face had hardened into a deep frown and he squeezed her hand lightly in an attempt to reassure her. She turned to face him as they continued to follow the company but he could see in her eyes that his efforts were futile.   
He looked forward once again, staring at the back of his uncle’s head. In his mind he replayed Thorin’s words to her, feeling his blood run cold as he did so.   
“I don’t want you going anywhere alone anymore,” he whispered. “Stay with me if you can, but always make sure someone from the Company is with you.”   
“Kíli, what are you thinking?” she asked, her voice laced with dread.   
“I don’t know what Uncle is thinking anymore. I hate to say it, but I don’t trust him with you.”   
A sharp tug on his hand made him stop and he turned to see her eyes suddenly wide with fear.   
“You don’t think he would…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.   
“I think he’ll drive you away if he can,” he clarified. “And I don’t want to be parted from you unless it’s absolutely necessary.”   
“If he wants me gone then what good will it do?” she frowned.   
“You belong here with us,” he whispered fiercely, gripping her shoulders as he stared into her wide green eyes. “He’s forgotten that because he’s not himself, but he will beat this. I know it.”   
“Kíli,” she shook her head slightly. He knew he sounded naïve, but he couldn’t just accept that Thorin was succumbing to this madness. His uncle had been too strong and too stubborn in his life to let a sickness turn him into a shadow; a gold-hoarding miser. He refused to believe it.   
“Please Vana just promise me you’ll keep yourself safe? Stay away from Thorin for now?”   
“Kíli!”   
He snapped his head up to see Thorin standing at the end of the corridor, in the doorway of a long cavern, dimly lit cavern. Behind him he could see the rest of the Company milling around, sorting through pieces of armour and weapons.   
“Come, you must prepare for tomorrow,” Thorin said sharply. Kíli nodded and turned back to Vana, smiling reassuringly at her. She attempted to return it and he took her hand once again, leading her to the armoury.   
As they reached the doorway, however, Thorin’s cold gaze turned to Vana.   
“Not you.”   
Both Kíli and Vana froze and Kíli frowned at his uncle, remembering vividly the last time he had heard him say those words.   
“Uncle?”   
Thorin seemed to ignore him.   
“You will not touch anything in here. This is Dwarven weaponry, and you are not welcome to it.”   
“Uncle you can’t -!”   
“Kíli,” Vana’s hand on his arm stopped him from advancing on his uncle. “It’s alright.”   
He turned to look at her, his mouth opening in protest but she only shook her head firmly. “I’ll wait out here.”   
Kíli glanced wordlessly between the two of them until Thorin summoned him forward.   
“Come here Kíli, I must speak with you.”   
With an apologetic glance back to Vana, he followed his uncle into the armoury. They passed row after row of dust-riddled weapons and armour, some kinds Kíli had never seen before, even in the Blue Mountains; axes with half a dozen blades, maces with heads bigger than his, spears that were twice his height if not more. Bombur had even found a giant battle-horn, carved from the tusk of what must have been a huge beast.   
In his distraction he almost didn’t realise just how far Thorin was leading him into the cavern; it was only when Thorin stopped and turned to face him that he realised he was well out of earshot of any of the company – something he found very disconcerting.   
“Kíli,” Thorin addressed him softly, though his gaze was hard and unyielding, reminding Kíli of being scolded as a dwarfling. “This is a matter of great importance, and I expect you to answer me honestly.”   
Taken aback, Kíli nodded almost out of instinct.   
“I want to know exactly what she has been saying to you.”   
Thorin’s eyes were like ice, boring into him and making his blood run cold.   
“What…what do you mean, uncle?”   
“You two have been spending time alone, talking in private about matters which should not be shared outside of our own kin.”   
At this, Kíli frowned.   
“I don’t…Vana and I are courting. We talk about everything. I have no secrets from her.”   
“But she has secrets from you,” Thorin countered, his expression suddenly deadly.   
“No – I mean -” Kíli mentally cursed himself, his ability to speak severely inhibited by his uncle’s fierce glare. “It’s nothing to do with the Arkenstone.”   
As soon as the words left his mouth he wished he could swallow them again. Thorin immediately tensed, his face contorting into a rage Kíli had never seen before. Yet, when he spoke his voice was eerily soft, sending chills down Kíli’s spine.   
“The Arkenstone is not her concern. She is a daughter of Man, with no rights or claims upon anything in this mountain.”   
“Except for me,” Kíli countered, his anger pulling his confidence back to the surface. “She will be my wife one day.”   
“You think she will ever be fit to stand beside a prince of Erebor?” Thorin scoffed. “Kíli you had best let this dalliance of yours go. Cast her out before she causes more trouble.”   
For a moment, Kíli’s power of speech seemed to tumble out of existence. Unable to believe the words coming out of his uncle’s mouth, he found himself resisting the urge to punch him.   
“How…how can you say such things?” he hissed. “You adopted her into our clan! You gave us both your blessing in Rivendell!”   
“That was before I realised her true purpose in coming here!” Thorin growled.   
“Her true purpose was to help you reclaim your lost home!”   
“It was to drive a rift between us!” Thorin exclaimed, marching forward to grip Kíli roughly by the shoulders. “She seeks to turn you and Fíli against me!”   
“Can’t you hear yourself?!” Kíli shouted, wrenching himself free and backing away. “This is the sickness talking, uncle!”   
“You will see for yourself Kíli,” Thorin vowed, his voice soft and dark once again. “Soon enough she will show her true colours.”   
Unable to think of any response that wouldn’t result in grievous injury, Kíli clenched his fists and stormed away towards his brother, who was pretending to examine a shield as he watched the whole exchange.   
“What was that about?”   
“Not right now,” Kíli growled through gritted teeth. “Later, when I don’t feel like I could smash this whole armoury to pieces.   
“Here then,” Fíli said, throwing the shield to him. “Help me with these.”

_ Vana _

I watched them all from a safe distance, admiring some of the weapons and flinching at others, watching in awe as they fitted themselves out with all manner of armour and weaponry. It was a sight to behold, especially when Ori came into view with his head almost completely obscured in a bronze helmet and carrying a warhammer that was bigger than him.   
Part of me wanted to laugh while another part wanted to cry; how could this band of travelling tradesmen and scholars be going to war?   
“Master Baggins! Come here.”   
Thorin’s order echoed clearly through the cavern as he came to stand in the centre of the cavern. He was dressed head to foot in heavy, gold plated armour and in his gloved hands he held a small, silver-chained shirt.  
I watched as Bilbo began to tentatively make his way towards Thorin, glancing nervously at me as he did so. I did my best to nod encouragingly, but it came across more as a nervous twitch. With a few heavy, clanking steps, Thorin came towards him.   
“You’re going to need this,” Thorin said softly and held it up to Bilbo, who began to hesitantly remove his coat. “This vest is made of silver steel. Mithril, it was called by my forebears. No blade can pierce it.”   
I couldn’t help but gasp softly – mithril was an extremely rare and desired material. Its value was beyond comprehension, at least, certainly beyond Bilbo’s; the hobbit shoved it over his head clumsily, as if it was an old shirt, shuffling around until he stood in front of me.   
Bilbo looked down at himself and shook his head. “I look absurd! I’m not a warrior, I’m a hobbit.”   
“It is a gift,” Thorin said. “A token of our friendship.” I could have sworn I saw the corners of Thorin’s mouth turn upwards in a small smile before his eyes darted towards the armoury. “True friends are hard to come by,” he muttered so I barely heard him before he grabbed Bilbo’s shoulder and led him away.   
I leapt to my feet at the gesture and made my way towards them until I heard my name being called. I whipped around to see Kíli, dressed in heavy silver armour with a sword strapped to his back. In his hand he held a short, wide black bow and a quiver of arrows. He made his way towards me in short, heavy steps, clearly from the heavier-than-usual metal boots he was wearing. It was almost comical and for a split second I felt the urge to laugh.   
I turned to look behind me and search for Bilbo but he was safely tucked away in a corner, talking softly with Thorin. I let out a small sigh before turning back to Kíli.   
“You look ridiculous,” I told him with a teasing smile.   
He pretended to look offended as he looked himself up and down before looking back to me with a cheeky smirk.   
“I think I look rather brave, dashing, heroic even,” he chuckled.   
“You look as if you’re dressed for war,” I said, feeling my lips quiver as I fought to keep my smile intact. “I mean, _that’s_ ridiculous, isn’t it? There’s no way we could possibly be going to war tomorrow, you know all fifteen of us, one of whom is a hobbit who knew nothing of fear and weapons and battles until he met us. And now he’s expected to fight with us against an entire army of elves over a pile of treasure, I mean it’s utterly ridiculous -”   
Kíli reached out to take one of my hands, which were now shaking uncontrollably as I fought to hold my tears in.   
“It’s going to be alright, love,” Kíli smiled, squeezing my hand. His own hand was warm through the glove he was wearing and I took a deep, shaky breath to try and calm myself. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”   
“I won’t let anything happen to you either.” I whispered, my eyes meeting his. His eyes glowed softly in the dim light of the cavern and his smile was no longer cheeky, but warm and reassuring. I kept my eyes fixed on his as he extended his other hand towards me.   
“I found this. I thought you could put it to better use than me.”   
I slowly took the bow and quiver from him, frowning slightly at the weight. It was a good deal heavier than my old hunting bow.   
“I haven’t used a bow like this in a long time,” I muttered.   
“I know you’ll be fine,” Kíli whispered, placing his hand gently under my chin. My eyes met his again and for a few brief moments I forgot about the impending battle, the cursed treasure, the dragon, all of it. Kíli was here, and everything was going to be fine.   
“Come,” Dwalin said softly as he came up next to us. “We must go.”   
I glanced at him and nodded, stepping aside to let him past. He patted my shoulder gently before marching out, followed closely by Fíli who flashed me a brief smile. Kíli followed his brother. The rest of the company passed me until finally, Balin was left.   
“Here, lassie,” he smiled kindly and held out a copper-coloured piece of chainmail. I took it and let it unfold in my hands. It was a short, open chainmail shirt that was clearly too wide for me.   
“I know it’s huge, but I thought it might work if you wrap it round and fasten it with this,” Balin held out a leather belt for me to take next. I glanced around but both Thorin and Bilbo were gone, having followed the rest of the dwarves out.   
“Balin, you heard what Thorin said -”  
“I know, lassie, I know,” Balin sighed, taking a deep, heaving breath. “But if tomorrow ends in a battle, I will not allow a single member of this company to go unarmed, least of all my own niece. Now put this on, and let’s hear no more about it. You can cover it with the cardigan after.”   
I regarded him for a moment, noting the tears forming in his warm, kind eyes. I gently rested my hand on his shoulder and forced a smile onto my face once more.   
“It’ll be alright,” I promised him. “We can survive this.”   
Balin only nodded with a brief smile. “I hope you’re right my dear.” He then turned to follow the rest of the company. I watched him until he had disappeared from sight before glancing down at the armour in my hand.   
_This is really happening. We’re going to war. Thorin is driving us into a battle we cannot win._ I swallowed hard, leaning back against the wall. I had been in fights, of course. I had fought wargs, orcs, goblins, giant spiders and more orcs. I had fought when my back was split open from whippings, when I was covered in webs and when I was stuck in a barrel. I had even survived a dragon attack.   
But I had never been in a battle. A true battle with armies and open ground awaited us all and there was no way we could win. But we would absolutely try.   
I took a final deep breath and stood up from the wall, setting the chainmail on the ground. I removed my cardigan, leaving me in only my shirt and corset. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted an abandoned grey tunic and picked it up. An extra layer couldn’t hurt. I then opened the chainmail shirt and slipped my arms into the sleeves.   
The metal was cold where it touched my bare skin, and tough to bend from the decades of neglect but I told myself I would get used to it. I shrugged it onto my shoulders and frowned at the draping sides. It was easily made to fit someone twice my width, but I managed to wrap it round, tucking one side under the other. It only just reached my hips. After fastening it tight with the leather belt – which also needed to be wrapped around me twice - I put the tunic on over it. It covered my torso, but not my arms, which would need to be covered by the cardigan. I considered for a moment before strapping my knife belt on over my tunic. I would take the cardigan off before fighting. It was far too big and cumbersome.  Finally, I put my cardigan on over the tunic and chainmail, adjusting the collar and sleeves until I was satisfied that all the chainmail was covered. I then strapped the quiver of arrows onto my back with Ringil before shouldering the bow and making my way back towards the gates.

_ Kíli  _

As he marched past Thorin out of the armoury, his ill words about Vana resurfaced in Kíli’s mind. He felt his muscles tense at the thought and tightened the grip on his shield. They were back in the entrance hall before too long and he remained close to his brother, nodding for them to step aside.   
“What happened Kíli?” Fíli asked, softly yet urgently. “What did he say to you?”   
“That Vana has a secret agenda and is trying to turn us both against Thorin,” Kíli growled, his anger mounting at Fíli’s shocked expression. “He wants me to cast her out Fíli! He said what we had was a dalliance! He’s the one who gave us his blessing!”   
“He’s not himself, Kíli,” Fíli said, still trying to process what he was hearing. “He doesn’t remember any of that.”   
“What do I do?” Kíli asked him. “I can’t tell her to leave. Even if I wanted to, she’d never do it. But what if Thorin tries to make her leave? Or worse -?”   
“No,” Fíli cut him off. “It won’t come to that. Listen, you just make sure Vana stays close to you. I’ll keep an eye on Thorin.”   
“Are you sure?”   
“Aye, I’ll make sure he doesn’t come near her,” he nodded, his gaze falling slightly as his expression suddenly changed. “Kíli?”   
“Yes?”   
“Do you…?” Fíli’s voice suddenly grew very quiet. “Do you feel different at all? Since being in the Mountain?”   
“Different?” Kíli frowned. “How so?”   
“I don’t know, just…” Fíli’s face seemed to contort as if he was concentrating very hard. His gaze still wouldn’t meet Kíli’s. “I feel very…paranoid. As if something’s following me all the time. I feel as if the gold is…is waiting for me to fall for it…” He shook his head slightly and Kíli swallowed hard.   
“Âmad said the sickness was in our blood,” Fíli told him. “That our grandfather and great-grandfather suffered from it. Now Thorin is…” He trailed off before finally lifting his gaze back to Kíli’s.   
“What if we find the Arkenstone?” he asked in a barely audible voice. “And…and it takes me too?”   
Completely taken aback by the fear in his big brother’s eyes, Kíli almost didn’t know how to react. He was so used to being the one who was frightened or unsure of things; when he was a dwarfling it was always Fíli who said the right thing, who told him exactly what he needed to hear. He never considered what he could do if the situation were reversed. He said nothing for many long moments, before finally steeling himself and setting a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder.   
“It won’t. I won’t let it. Remember what you used to say to me when I was scared?”   
“‘Whatever wants to get you has to go through me first,’” Fíli recited with a small smile.   
“Exactly. Well now the same is true for you. Thorin’s going to beat this, I know he is. He’s more than a match for a bit of gold. And as for you, no stone or trinket is going to take you from me. I won’t let it.”   
“You won’t will you, you stubborn goat?” Fíli smiled slightly and Kíli leaned forward to lock foreheads with him.   
“You’re the strongest dwarf I know, Fee. No matter what happens you’ll always be my big brother, and I’ll always love you more than any treasure horde can. Just remember that whenever you look at the gold.”   
He felt, rather than saw Fíli nod and pulled back to grin cheekily at his older brother.   
“Besides, I’m pretty sure I can drive you insane faster than any cursed gold.”   
At this Fíli burst out laughing, shaking his head at him and rubbing his fingers across his forehead.   
“Mahal, Kíli,” he chuckled. “Is there any morsel of a filter in your head?”   
Before Kíli could retort a sudden commotion behind him caught their attention and they turned to see Thorin shouting at a startled Balin who had just emerged into the Entrance Hall with Vana.   
“Where have you been?” Thorin demanded loudly and Kíli didn’t miss the accusing look he cast at Vana, though he spoke only to Balin.   
“We were just returning from the armoury Thorin,” the old dwarf answered calmly. “We got caught up talking.”   
“About what exactly?” Thorin’s tone turned menacing and Kíli immediately set off towards Vana.   
“Tomorrow, Thorin. We were speaking of the ensuing fight tomorrow, nothing more.”   
Thorin narrowed his eyes and turned his dark gaze to Vana. Kíli reached her side and calmly placed himself between her and Thorin as she watched with wide eyes.   
His eyes found Thorin’s and he stared his uncle down with a fierce determination. His uncle’s expression turned thunderous for a moment before Dwalin’s voice caught his attention.   
“Thorin,” he called. “What are your orders for the watch?”   
With a final glare at Kíli, Thorin turned to face his oldest comrade and marched towards the great barrier.   
“We’ll sleep in here tonight,” he ordered gruffly. “I don’t want any delays tomorrow. They’ll likely attack at first light. Dori, Ori, fetch the bedding. Óin, Glóin, get a fire going, Bombur, find us some food. Dwalin, you’ll take first watch, three hours, then you Nori. Bofur you’ll follow him and then Bifur, you keep watch until dawn.”   
The company set to work, those with orders heading off to fulfil them, while the rest began to remove their heavy armour, ready to settle in for the night. Kíli took a place next to his brother, around the fire the Óin was setting up while his brother went to find wood, and Vana nervously took her place next to him. As he removed his armour, he caught sight of her gazing at him, her eyes wide with a fearful sadness as she followed his movements. Laying down the last of his armour he laid a gentle hand on her arm.   
“It’s going to be all right,” he whispered. “Just stay by my side.”   
She nodded, but still he saw her cast fearful glances in Thorin’s direction.


	7. Red Sky in the Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before the battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only apologise for the long wait. I've been travelling around Southland, Queenstown, Glenorchy, Paradise, Fiordland - I went horse-riding along the Dart River which is literally Middle-Earth country :D Anyway, I literally only got decent wifi now and thanks to the lack of it before I've done a maHOOSive amount of editing. So I'm going to be extra nice :)

_ Vana _

That night we huddled around the fire, trying to ignore the brisk winter air at our backs. There were plenty of places we could have spent the night further within the mountain but none of us complained; we weren’t eager to be too close to that treasure chamber.  
The fear continued to gnaw at me with each passing minute. It was utter madness; fifteen of us (one of which, a hobbit, the other just recovering from a poisoned arrow wound) against an entire army of elves and almost a whole town full of people we had rendered homeless. If it came to a fight we had no chance.  
No one voiced it, but we all had a terrible feeling about what the next day would bring. As well as this, Thorin was growing more erratic by the hour. He would be silent and brooding, and then become distressed and grow angry. He moved about the mountain slowly, weighed down by his grand cloak, heavy pelt and golden armour. He had found his grandfather’s crown and since he had started wearing it his mood swings had grown more frequent. It was exhausting for all of us but Fíli and Kíli felt it the most.

I leant my head against Kíli’s shoulder, trying to absorb some of his warmth. He rested his cheek against my head and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. It was utterly silent in the vast cavern that was the entrance hall, save the crackle of the flames and the distant echoes of memories held by the stone, both crumbled and whole.  
There was a very real chance that we would go to war tomorrow and there seemed to be nothing any of us could do about it. I glanced around the faces of the company I had grown so fond of.  
Bilbo sat by himself, his arms wrapped around his knees as he stared into the flames. Bofur and Bifur fiddled with their carving knives and Bombur absent-mindedly watched as his brother began wittling at a piece of marble he had found. Óin and Balin sat cross-legged, occasionally glancing at the hall down to Thorin who sat sullenly upon his throne, staring into space. Dwalin was the only one standing, leaning against a crumbling pillar and watching Thorin intently, as if waiting for him to speak. Glóin and Fíli sat restlessly by the fire, trying to warm their hands over the flames. Ori sat as close to his oldest brother as possible while Dori busied himself sewing his youngest brother’s buttons back onto his coat.  
The whole night was set to go on like this, and I was suddenly desperate to break the silence. I racked my brain for something to say; small talk, a meaningless remark, a joke, anything.  
Eventually, I settled for what always seemed to cheer them up and began to sing:

“ _Of all the money that e’er I had,_  
 _I’ve spent it in good company,_  
 _And all the harm that e’er I’ve done,_  
 _Alas it was to none but me.”_

The dwarves all looked around in surprise at me and their gazes never left me as they waited for me to continue.

 _“And all I’ve done, for want of wit,_  
 _To memory now I can’t recall,_  
 _So fill to me the parting glass,_  
 _Good night and joy be to you all_.”

I peered around at my comrades and smiled as they leaned in towards the fire. Dwalin even stopped watching Thorin and moved closer, sitting next to his brother instead, who returned my smile. The song played much more clearly in my head and I continued with a little more confidence.

_“Of all the comrades that e'er I had,_   
_They are sorry for my going away,_   
_And all the sweethearts that e'er I had,_   
_They would wish me one more day to stay._   
_But since it falls unto my lot,_   
_That I should rise and you should not,_   
_I'll gently rise and I'll softly call,_   
_Good night and joy be to you all._

_A man may drink and not be drunk,_   
_A man may fight and not be slain,_   
_A man may court a pretty girl,_   
_And perhaps be welcomed back again._   
_But since it has so ought to be,_   
_By a time to rise and a time to fall,_   
_Come fill to me the parting glass,_   
_Good night and joy be to you all._

_Come fill to me the parting glass,_  
_Good night and joy be to you all.”_

I ducked my head slightly as I finished, noticing that Thorin was staring intently at me. I could feel his eyes piercing me, like icy daggers digging into my skin.  
“That was beautiful lass,” Balin’s kind voice caught my attention and I looked up to find both he and his brother staring at me with shining eyes. Dwalin nodded in agreement.  
“Thank you,” I replied softly.  
“I feel I could sleep soundly now,” Ori said sweetly. I smiled widely at him.  
“Then you should sleep little brother,” Dori said, lying down on his bedroll. “I know I will.”  
“Aye, we should all get some sleep, while we still can.” Glóin remarked as he followed suit, clasping his hands behind his head.  
I turned to face Kíli who was gazing at me. His face glowed gold in the firelight and the slow, flickering light of the flames shone in his eyes. I could have stared at him forever. His smile grew wider and he opened his mouth as if to say something before shutting it again, thinking better of whatever it was. Instead he leaned his forehead against mine, touching the tip of his nose to mine. I smiled and closed my eyes, savouring the small intimacies we could share. When he pulled away I lay down on the bedrolls and extended my arms to him. He lay on his back and pulled me against his chest, closing his eyes and resting against the top of my head. I caught sight of Fíli smiling over at us and I returned it before closing my eyes and nestling into Kíli’s warm body.

“Vana?”  
My eyelids were heavy and my mind still fogged with sleep when Kíli’s soft whisper broke into my haze. I shuffled slightly, trying to force my eyes to open.  
“Vana?”  
I let out a small groan only to feel his thick finger press gently against my lips.  
“Ssh, wake up love.”  
I sighed and finally managed to coax one eye open. Kíli was crouching next to me, wide awake and beaming down at me. I frowned as best I could with only one eye open but he only smiled more widely.  
“Come with me, I want to show you something.” He crooked a finger in front of my face, beckoning me to follow him.  
I attempted to open my mouth to retort but all that did was provoke a huge yawn – and all that did was make Kíli chuckle in that annoyingly endearing way.  
“It’ll be worth the effort, my love. I promise.” He winked cheekily. I huffed and knuckled my eyes fiercely to wake myself up before accepting his offered hand and allowing him to pull me to my feet. Once I was safely balanced and he was sure I wouldn’t collapse back to sleep again he turned to pull me along with him and I noticed his sword was strapped to his back.  
He led me away from the entrance and up the stairs to the left of the doorway. For many minutes we climbed the stairs until eventually he led me through a small stone door and down a dark corridor. It was almost pitch black and I stumbled over loose debris more than once but Kíli only chuckled at my grumbling.  
“Not too far now,” he assured me.  
“Kíli, have you forgotten the incredibly serious and dangerous thing that’s to happen this morning?” I asked sarcastically. Kíli suddenly stopped walking so I collided with him with a loud ‘oof!’ but before I could snap he was speaking.  
“No, actually it’s all I can think about.”  
His voice was so quiet, so broken, so…afraid, that I completely forgot I had been roused from sleep and dragged all through the mountain in the pitch black. I reached out in the darkness with my free hand and found his arm, rubbing it soothingly and I felt him squeeze my hand before pulling me along with him again. Less than a minute later he stopped once more, and I could hear him feeling around on the wall to our right.  
“Hold on…I swear it was here…”  
“What in the name of Mahal -?”  
“Found it!” He exclaimed softly and then there was a loud crunch of stone on stone as he pushed a small door open, scraping it across the floor. A soft grey light filtered into the corridor, illuminating his face which was split into a wide grin as he turned to face me, releasing my hand and gesturing towards the door.  
“Out you go.”  
I frowned slightly, shielding my eyes from the sudden onslaught of light and stepped through the door. I had to blink hard a few times to focus but I soon discovered that we were on a small, stone terrace built onto an outcrop of the mountainside. In the distance I could see the rise of the rolling hills; brown, barren land stretching into the East where the light of the early dawn was starting to creep over the shadow of the jagged mountains far to the East.  
“The Iron Hills,” Kíli said softly from behind me. I nodded wordlessly, watching as the sun peeked its head over the top of the horizon.  
“It’s so quiet,” I whispered, the surrounding silence feeling deafening to my ears. “The quiet before the storm…”  
“Ssh,” Kíli gently wound his arms around my stomach from behind me, pressing his lips softly against my neck, just beneath my ear. I closed my eyes at the all too familiar feeling, realising that this was the closest we had been since Beorn’s house – a time that felt like only yesterday and many years ago at the same time.  
“Amrâlimê,” his voice was soft and warm in my ear. “Let’s not speak of storms and war. They can wait until the sun has risen.”  
“Then what shall we speak of, my Prince?” I asked.  
“How about Bofur’s hat?”  
I opened my eyes and twisted in his arms to frown at him in confusion. He only grinned.  
“And songs and rain and ponies. The time that Balin humiliated me in front of my brother, my One and the entire Company. When we reached the top of the mountains and you were the queen of the world. The nights we spent in Rivendell and the braids we gave each other. And this.” He leant in and pressed his lips against mine. “Let’s speak of this.”  
My heart leapt into my throat as he listed all the things that made me the happiest. I could feel tears spring to my eyes and laughter bubble in my chest all at the same time, but I suppressed it all in order to keep kissing him, letting the feeling of our bodies and souls bonding drown the entire world out. I turned my body to face him, never parting our lips and wrapped my arms tightly around his neck as our mouths melded perfectly together, tongues dancing and skin touching. Only when I knew I absolutely had to breathe again did I pull away to rest my forehead against his.  
“You remembered?” I gasped. “My list, you remembered?”  
“Your happiness is the most important thing to me, love,” Kíli said with a small smile. “Of course I remembered.”  
I pulled away to look at him, savouring the sight of his dark hair dancing softly in the morning breeze, his surprisingly soft stubble that decorated his cheeks and jaw, his lips slightly swollen from kissing and pulled back into a wide, loving smile, and his eyes – thank Mahal for those eyes – deep, glowing embers shining brightly as they reflected the morning sun that was rising too quickly.  
I gently unwrapped my arms from his neck, tangling my right hand into his hair and stroking his cheek lightly with my left. He leaned into my touch, closing his eyes briefly as I traced the outline of his jaw.  
“I love you, Kíli,” I told him, with all the conviction of my heart. “Rest assured that as long as you are by my side, I will be happy.”  
“I wish that were true,” he said almost too softly for me to hear. I frowned as his eyes found mine again, wide and saddened.  
“I have failed,” he whispered. “Failed to keep you safe and happy, as I promised myself I would a long time ago. So I would like to change that, once and for all.”  
Before I could respond, he stepped a little away from me and reached into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a small object which he pressed gently into my hands before I could see what it was.  
“This is no ring, as I would have liked, but it’s a token of promise.” He pulled his hands from mine and I opened my palm to find myself staring in bewilderment at his rune stone. The sound of ringing metal reached my ears and my head snapped up to find Kíli kneeling before me, standing his sword on the ground with his hands resting over the top of the hilt, his head bent down as if in prayer. Before I could even open my mouth to question him, or express any kind of shock towards his actions, he addressed me in a loud, clear voice.  
“I promise to spend every moment of my life loving you, and to prove to you how much I do. I promise that you will want for nothing as long as you are with me. I promise to be your sword and shield, your hearth and home, and to give you my heart and soul.” He flipped his sword lengthways, balancing it on the palms of his hands and holding it up to me, lifting his gaze to mine once again.  
“All I ask in return is that you do me the honour of growing old with me, by my side, as my beautiful, strong, caring and passionate wife. Vana, my mystery girl, when all this is over; will you marry me?”  
I stared at him, my mouth falling open. The rune stone I held in my hand suddenly felt much heavier, much more important. There was something so profound about the way he spoke and knelt before me, something that emanated tradition and history, but at the same time felt entirely special and unique. Even having lived with the dwarves for ten years, I knew surprisingly little of their customs, but somehow I knew exactly what to do.  
I reached out with my free hand, closed it around the hilt and lifted it from his hands. Holding it tightly and willing myself not to drop it as I returned my gaze to his.  
“Rise, Kíli, son of Nalí,” I told him and he did as I asked, his gaze never leaving mine. Once he was on his feet I laid the sword gently on the balcony.  
“Yes,” I whispered before kissing him deeply, throwing my arms around his neck. I felt him smile into the kiss, pulling me hard against him as he wrapped his arms around my waist. I felt him lift me into the air and spin me around, pulling away with a delighted laugh to look down at him. He was beaming, his eyes glowing like a new flame beneath the dawn and I couldn’t resist kissing him again. This moment couldn’t be allowed to end.  
He set me back on my feet, pulling gently away to take my face in his hands.  
“You really will?” he breathed, the grin he wore almost splitting his face in two. “You’ll marry me?”  
“Yes, of course I will,” I grinned back at him. “Did you ever think I would say no?”  
He kissed me again in response, this time much more passionately. I let out a soft moan when I felt his tongue lick into my mouth and responded with just as much enthusiasm if not more. His hands moved up to tangle in my hair, holding my face to his in a strong, safe grasp. I let out another moan as the stone wall of the mountainside pressed against my back and pulled him closer to me, letting my hand travel over his chest.  
Despite the fact that my eyes were closed, a flicker of light in the distance caught my attention and my eyes snapped open. I immediately pushed Kíli away, nodding in the direction of Dale. He turned to look and I felt him tense as he saw the thousands of golden-armoured elves marching from the gates of Dale towards the mountain.  
He turned to face me, all trace of excitement gone, and took my face gently in his hands once again.  
“Remember our promise?” he asked in a hushed voice.  
“Just bear in mind,” I replied. “That however long it takes for you to return to me, is how long I will be making you wait on our wedding night.”  
My favourite mischievous grin crept back to his lips and he let out a soft chuckle.  
“Well if that isn’t enough incentive to survive, nothing is.”  
He stroked a hand through my hair as I fought to keep a smile on my face. His words made me feel as though a crushing weight had been dropped on my chest, and it took every inch of willpower I had to keep the images from the vision from filling my head once more.  
“Keep my runestone with you,” he said softly, pressing his lips gently against mine. I kissed him back with as much love and promise as I could before he pulled away.  
“Come on, we have to warn the others.”  
I nodded, pocketing the runestone while he retrieved his sword and led the way back through the mountain to the entrance hall.  
“Kíli!” Thorin’s furious roar reverberated off the walls as we reached the hall. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?”  
“Up on the battlements, uncle,” Kíli replied calmly, gently pulling me behind him. “The elves -”  
“Are marching here as we speak! You think I don’t know! Arm yourself and get to the top of the wall! And you!”  
He pointed an armoured finger at me.  
“The first sign of trouble and you are going over the wall!” He hissed his threat through gritted teeth but it resounded in my mind as if he’d shouted it in my ear. I tightened my grip on Kíli’s arm as we readied ourselves for battle.


	8. I Will Have War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary? How about 'everything goes to shit?'  
> Except for Dain. Dain is awesome. Because Dain.

_ Vana _

The elves marched in perfect synchronisation, as if they were one huge body. Despite their grace and elegance, the sound of their footsteps on the cold, hard ground was almost deafening. In amongst their ranks I could see Bard on his white horse riding next to Thranduil who was on a huge elk. They made their way through the rows of soldiers until they were before the gates, staring up at us with calm expressions.   
I caught Bard’s eye and stared incredulously at him.   
“What are you doing?” I mouthed, but I couldn’t tell if he saw. He simply moved his gaze back to Thorin – who nocked an arrow and shot it directly before the elk’s feet, causing it to stop suddenly.   
“I will put the next one between your eyes!” He shouted, nocking another arrow. I inhaled sharply at his words, keeping my eye on Thranduil. Around me, the other dwarves started to cheer and curse in Khuzdul. A worried frown crossed Bard’s face but Thranduil only inclined his head. All at once, every member of his army drew their bows and nocked their arrows in one swift movement.   
The jeering stopped instantly, replaced with shocked cries as we all instinctively ducked behind the stone, save Thorin, who kept his bow ready, glaring at the elf king.   
 A rustle of metal told us that the elves had re-sheathed their arrows and we all stood up once more to face them. My eyes met Bard’s once more, matching his concerned gaze.   
“We have come to tell you,” Thranduil’s deep, musical voice drifted up to us, almost hypnotically. “Payment of your debt has been offered and accepted.”   
We all frowned at this, glancing at one another. Thorin, however, remained a statue, his arrow ever ready to embed itself in the elf’s face.   
“What payment?” he demanded. “I gave you nothing. You have nothing.”   
I watched Thranduil slowly turn to face Bard who then reached into his coat. From it he withdrew a silvery stone.   
“We have this.” He stated, holding aloft the jewel. It sparkled in the sunlight in a silver shimmer, with blue and purple hues swimming within it. It gave the impression that the stone held great depth, yet Bard held it as if it were as light as a feather.   
_The Arkenstone,_ I thought to myself. But there was no way they could have found it. I glanced at Thorin, whose face was swimming with rage as he lowered his bow.   
“They have the Arkenstone,” I heard Kíli say softly, his eyes wide with confusion, until suddenly he was yelling. “Thieves! How came you by the heirloom of our house?!”   
“Kíli,” I whispered his name softly, laying a hand on his arm. He turned to face me, still seething with rage. He barely met my eyes before turning back to Bard.   
“That stone belongs to the king!”   
“The king may have it, with our good will.” Bard answered him calmly, tossing the stone into the air and catching it before pocketing it once more. He looked back to Thorin, his face and voice hardening. “But first, he must honour his word.”   
“They are taking us for fools,” Thorin’s hushed whisper made us all look round at him. He couldn’t be serious.   
“This is a ruse, a filthy lie!” he continued before raising his voice to an angry shout. “The Arkenstone is in this mountain! It is a trick!”   
“I-it’s no trick,” Bilbo said quietly from behind us, having snuck up on us yet again. I whipped round to face him, unsure if I’d heard him correctly.   
“The stone is real.”   
“Bilbo?” I whispered but he only glanced apologetically at me before facing Thorin directly.   
“I gave it to them.”   
I watched as Thorin slowly turned to face him, his face showing nothing but betrayal, even as his eyes grew steadily darker.   
“You?” his voice was deadly quiet, so much so I could barely hear it from the blood drumming in my ears.   
Bilbo twitched nervously, looking at the ground as he answered Thorin.   
“I took it as my fifteenth share.”   
“You would steal from me?” he growled at the hobbit. I tensed, feeling as though I was stepping into the long awaited battle at last.   
“Steal from you?” Bilbo smiled – _actually smiled_ – as he spoke. “No, I may be a burglar, but I like to think I’m an honest one. I’m willing to let it stand against my claim.”   
“Against your claim?” Thorin repeated quietly before his expression hardened. He glared at Bilbo as he threw his bow to the ground with a clatter. “Your _claim?_ You have no claim over me you miserable rat!”   
Bilbo instinctively went to take a step back but stood his ground, clearly making an effort to keep his voice steady.   
“I was going to give it to you,” he said quietly. “Many times I wanted to but…”   
“But what, thief?” The dark tone of Thorin’s voice made my hands twitch towards my knife belt. I worked hard to control my breathing as I watched the exchange.   
“You are changed Thorin!” Bilbo said with new conviction. “The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word! Would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!”   
“Do not speak to me of _loyalty_!” Thorin spat, a new crazy glint entering his eye as he addressed the rest of us. “Throw him from the rampart!”   
“What?” The question left my mouth in a high-pitched squeak, my hand squeezing the hilt of my knife through my cardigan.   
Bilbo’s eyes widened at his words, though not one dwarf made a move towards him, each exchanging frightened glances. Infuriated by our lack of response, Thorin whipped around and grabbed Fíli’s shoulder.   
“DID YOU NOT HEAR ME?!” He yanked his nephew forward but Fíli shook him off roughly and backed away, his face hard. Kíli instinctively took a step towards his brother while I stepped in front of Bilbo as Thorin spun to face him again.   
“Thorin stop!” I ordered, praying he somehow wouldn’t notice the insubordination. “Look at yourself! What are you doing?”   
“You,” he growled, pointing an armoured finger at me. I briefly met Kíli’s frightened glance before fixing my eyes on Thorin’s, searching desperately for his old warmth. “You were in on this. You and this thief plotted against me!”   
“What?” I frowned, shoving Bilbo back as he tried to step in front of me.   
“Thorin, she had nothing to do with -”   
“Bilbo, shut up! He won’t believe you.”   
“You will go next!” Thorin yelled and marched towards us.   
“No!” Kíli’s shout echoed in my ear as he grabbed hold of me, yanking me to his side while Thorin grabbed hold of Bilbo.   
“Curse you!” He shouted in a violent rage as he hauled Bilbo towards the wall. The tiny hobbit was no match for Thorin’s strength and could only stare, wide-eyed at his captor as he shoved him roughly against the wall.   
Fíli and Kíli tried to intervene, grabbing hold of Thorin’s shoulders but his madness seemed to be giving him more and more strength.   
“Cursed be the wizard that forced you on this company!”   
“IF YOU DO NOT LIKE MY BURGLAR -!” A deep, guttural voice boomed out across the mountainside and I looked down to see a familiar grey pointed hat marching through the elven army. “Then please don’t damage him! Return him to me!”   
Gandalf stepped out of the crowd, glaring up at Thorin who was still holding Bilbo over the edge of the barricade. We all froze at the sight, a few of the company letting out sighs of relief. Gandalf’s eyes never left Thorin’s as he took a few more steps towards him, standing in between Bard and Thranduil.   
“You are not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain,” he remarked. “Are you, Thorin son of Thráin?”   
I turned to look at Thorin, who was staring blankly at Gandalf, as he let Bilbo slip to the floor. Bilbo landed on his hands and knees, trying and failing to catch his breath as Bofur and Fíli helped him to his feet.   
“Never again,” Thorin declared at Gandalf. “Will I have dealings with wizards or Shire-rats!”   
Behind him, Bofur was gently shoving Bilbo towards the rope that hung down the side of the barricade. Bilbo, however, turned to look at me, his eyes still wide from his ordeal, mouthing that I should come with him. I shook my head at him, motioning for him to go ahead. He shot one last desperate look at me before clambering onto the wall and beginning to climb down.   
“Vana!” I spun round at the sound of Bard calling my name. He gazed up at me with deep concern. “Come down. You will be safer here.”    
I began to shake my head before Thorin’s dark voice spoke again.   
“Yes, go,” he grumbled and turned to face me, his lips upturned in disgust. “Go back to your own kind.”   
“No,” I stated clearly.   
“Vana -” Bard called up to me again and I turned to face him.   
“NO!” I made sure my voice rang clear across the mountainside before turning back to Thorin, who was still glaring at me.   
“I made a promise.” I spoke directly to Thorin, but made sure everybody could hear me. “I swore an oath to Thorin Oakenshield, and I will not break it.”   
“What good are the oaths of Men?” Thorin sneered, taking a threatening step towards me. “With their fickle hearts and greedy souls, I will not have them in my kingdom!”   
“Then it is a good thing I am no man!” I retorted, forcing my feet to stand their ground with every morsel of my willpower.   
“Uncle,” Kíli’s voice was soft but dark as he stepped in front of me. “If you harm her, you will have to kill me.”   
Thorin’s eyes met his nephew’s for a moment and for that moment they went blank. He stared at Kíli as if he couldn’t recognise him.   
“Are we resolved?” Bard’s sharp question tore Thorin out of his reverie. “The Arkenstone for what was promised?”   
Breathing heavily, Thorin looked up into the East, as if searching for something. He stepped back and began to pace back and forth along the wall like a restless guard dog. Kíli followed his movements carefully, keeping himself in between his uncle and I.   
“Why should I buy back that which is rightfully mine?” Thorin called down to Bard.   
“Keep the stone,” Thranduil said casually to Bard. “Sell it. Ecthelion of Gondor will give you a good price for it.”   
“I WILL KILL YOU!” Thorin screamed, his face dark red with rage. “By my oath I will kill you all!”   
“Your oath means nothing!” Thranduil snapped, turning his incredulous eye back to Thorin. “I have heard enough.” With that, he turned back to his army and before we knew it their arrows were pointed at us once again.   
The rest of the dwarves shifted uneasily and turned to look at Thorin who was still pacing and searching the horizon to the East.    
“Thorin!” Gandalf called pleadingly. “Lay down your arms. Open these doors. This treasure will be your death.”   
I swallowed hard at his words, images of the ice fields flooding my mind, Bilbo’s face streaked with tears and blood, Fíli falling, Kíli…   
“Thorin,” Balin spoke softly. “We cannot win this fight.”  
Thorin stopped pacing, looking down at Balin with a defeated expression. He ducked his head slightly and I watched carefully, silently praying for him to listen.   
“Give us your answer!” Bard demanded. “Will you have peace or war?”   
Just then, a raven landed on the barricade by Thorin’s arm with a loud crow and for a brief moment a small smile crossed Thorin’s face.   
“I will have war.”   
Though his response was soft, it carried down to the army below us and we on the barricade were frozen in shock at his declaration. It was too absurd, too ridiculous for words; Thorin was insane.   
However, when we followed his gaze to the east we could all see what had caught his attention; an army of dwarves was marching over the hill towards the elves. The ringing of their heavy metal armour could not be missed, nor could the several chariots in the front, each led by six battle-goats the size of ponies. Their leader rode towards us on a grey war pig and even from a distance his huge red hammer and matching fiery hair and beard were unmistakable.   
“Ironfoot,” Dwalin’s whispered observation was followed by loud cheers from the company as they beheld their allies. I, however, could not find it in myself to cheer. I could feel Thorin’s icy glare on the back of my neck and huddled closer to Kíli who had placed a protective arm around my waist.   
“Ey, Thorin!” Dáin raised his hammer in greeting and was met by a resounding cheer from the company.   
“Ironfoot has come!” Bofur called over their noise.    
I turned back to the elves in time to see Thranduil galloping back through the ranks, shouting orders in rapid Elvish. As one, the elven army turned and began to march towards the foot of the hill, stopping only when Dáin rode forward to perch on top of an outcrop of rock.   
“Good mornin’,” Dáin’s voice was worryingly cheerful as he addressed the elves as if they were friendly neighbours. The silence that followed was deadly, but it didn’t seem to bother the old dwarf. “How are we all? I’ve a wee proposition, if yeh wouldn’t mind giving me a few moments of yer time. Would yeh consider…” He paused to regard the armies in front of him before yelling at the top of voice: “JUST SODDING OFF! All of yeh! Right now!”   
The elves stood their ground but the men began to back away.   
“Stand fast!” Bard ordered them, though his horse seemed to be trying to back away as well.   
“Come now,” Gandalf called to the lord of the Iron Hills. “Lord Dáin.”   
“Gandalf the Grey,” Dáin greeted the wizard. “Tell this rabble to leave, or I’ll water the ground with their blood!”   
“This is madness,” I whispered without thinking and shrank against Kíli’s side.   
“There is no need for war between Dwarves, Men and Elves!” Gandalf insisted. “A legion of orcs march upon this mountain. Stand your army down.”   
“Did he say orcs?” Nori muttered, turning to face us.   
“I heard him say orcs,” Glóin said, his face growing pale.   
“I will not stand down before any elf!” Dáin’s declaration caught our attention again. “Not least this faithless woodland sprite! He wishes nothing but ill upon my people! If he tries to stand between me and my kin, I’ll split his pretty head open! See if he’s still smirking then.”   
With that, he wheeled his pig around and galloped it back towards his army.   
“Dáin, wait!” Gandalf called but he may as well have been talking to the pig.   
Another round of cheers erupted from the dwarves, who seemed to have forgotten the mention of an orc legion.   
“Let them advance,” came Thranduil’s worryingly calm voice echoing over the valley. “See how far they get.”   
“Yeh think I give a dead dog for yer threats yeh pointy-eared princess?” Dáin called back.   
All I could do was bury my face in my hands.   
“You hear that lads?” Dáin called to his army, reining his pig round. “We’re on! Let’s give these bastards a good hammerin’!”   
Dáin’s army immediately stood to attention, shouting in Khuzdul as the Elves wielded their spears.   
“Stand your men down!” I heard Thranduil call to Bard. “I’ll deal with Ironfoot and his rabble.”   
“This isn’t happening,” I muttered to myself. “This is _not_ happening.”   
“Vana, what is it?” Kíli asked softly.   
“ _What is it?_ ” I almost screeched. “Didn’t you hear what Gandalf said? There’s an army of orcs coming our way and we’re all about to start a war over a petty age-old squabble!”   
“Send in the goats!” Dáin’s order interrupted Kíli’s confused response and we turned to see the dwarvish infantry standing aside to make room for hundreds of cavalry mounted on battle goats move to the front lines.   
“Thorin!” I called over to him. “Stop this now, please!” Thorin sent me a dark look but made no further response. Kíli took my arm and pulled me gently round to face him.    
“Vana, don’t -”   
“No! This is wrong!”   
Orders in Khuzdul and Elvish alike echoed around the plain as the Elven archers prepared to fire at the oncoming charge.   
“Thranduil!” Gandalf shouted. “This is madness!”   
Thranduil ignored him and gave the order. The Elves’ arrows whistled gracefully into the air, a deadly barrage heading straight for the dwarven charge. They were met, first by Dáin’s loud Khuzdul order, and then by large dwarvish javelins, fired from huge crossbows and sent spinning into the air, blades extending out from all sides. The blades cut the Elves’ arrows to splinters in the air before descending into their ranks and sending Elves scattering and flying into the air where they landed.   
I gagged slightly when I saw the severed limbs, turning to see Thorin watching the sight with a horrifically determined expression.   
“How d’yeh like that?” Dáin yelled, waving his hammer at the Elves. “The old twirly whiries! Yeh buggars!”   
“Thorin, this is insane!” I almost shouted. “You have to stop this!”   
“Kíli! Keep her quiet!” Thorin ordered sharply. The injustice of it all made my gut clench in anger and when Kíli went to take my arm again I wrenched it free.   
The thunder of the hooves on the ground was almost deafening as the dwarves charged even harder towards the Elves, and when they finally met, the clash of metal on metal and the crunching of broken bones echoed far and wide over the valley. Dáin’s war cry was impossibly loud as he followed his cavalry into the Elven ranks, leading the rest of his army into the fray. He swung his hammer almost joyfully as he went, knocking down any Elf in his way. The sight of it all made me feel sick and I watched it all unfold with a heavy feeling of helplessness - until they were drowned out by the most tremendous rumblings, like thunder rolling under the very ground beneath our feet.   
Every soldier on the battlefield momentarily forgot about the fight and turned towards the south to watch as the very earth exploded outwards, revealing three huge monsters bursting upwards out of the soil. They resembled huge earthworms with a head that opened in a massive circular jaw that crushed the dry rocks of the earth into crumbs. Almost as soon as they appeared, the monsters retreated back into the earth, leaving behind three massive tunnels.  
Before we could so much as exchange looks of confusion, a terribly loud and familiar voice boomed across the valley in the deadly, guttural Black Speech, followed by a dreadful horn and out of the tunnels poured masses of what could only be the orc legions. They scuttled towards the mountain like huge, armoured insects, roaring their attack as they formed a huge offense.   
Before I even had time to take in the sight, I heard Dáin’s loud Khuzdul orders and turned to see the dwarves below sprinting out of the crowded armies, forming ranks in front of the Elves as they went.   
“The hordes of hell are upon us!” came Dáin’s yell as he galloped along with his army, waving his hammer. “To battle, sons of Durin! Fight to the death!”   
Without even a moment’s hesitation the Iron Hills forces continued to charge forwards, following their king towards the orcs.   
The elves and men, however, remained stationary.   
“Why aren’t they fighting?” Ori asked in a small voice. I looked around to find the company watching the whole scene with fearful expressions. Even Thorin looked on with widened eyes. No one answered Ori, but many of the dwarves’ expressions suddenly grew fierce.   
“I’m going over the wall!” Fíli announced loudly. “Who’s coming with me?”   
“Aye!” Glóin cried, brandishing his axe.   
“Come on, let’s go!” Dwalin shouted.    
“Stand down.” Thorin ordered, his face grave, almost empty as he turned away from the battle. We all froze, none of us able to believe what we had just heard.   
“What?” Óin muttered, but the expression on his face told us he had heard Thorin exactly.   
“Are we to do nothing?” Fíli demanded, his face growing red with anger.   
“I said stand down!” Thorin didn’t look at any of us, didn’t give any indication that a battle was raging below us. I thought of Bilbo; tiny, innocent Bilbo down amongst the armies and before I could stop myself I was marching towards Thorin who was about to make his way down the steps.   
“How can you walk away?” I cried, resisting the urge to pull out Ringil. “How can you hide behind your walls while your kin fight? You are no king, you coward -!”   
The sharp blow to my face cut me off from my ill words and I was knocked off my feet. I hit the ground hard, pain shooting through my arms as I caught myself and I blinked hard at the sharp stinging spreading across my jaw.   
The company were shouting angrily but I couldn’t understand what they were saying. It all melded into one big ringing in my ears.   
“Vana!” Balin’s voice broke through and I felt gentle hands lock around my waist. “Up you get lassie, come on.”   
I opened my eyes and immediately wished I hadn’t; I was staring down over the edge of the barricade to the stone floor far below. Instinct kicked in and I recoiled, reaching up to grab hold of Balin who was staring down at me looking almost as terrified as I felt.   
My gaze travelled and suddenly I was very aware of my surroundings. Dwalin was braced in front of Thorin, his huge arms locked around his chest and shoulders as Thorin attempted to push past him towards Fíli, who was shouting at him in Khuzdul whilst, with the aid of Dori, similarly restraining Kíli was practically growling at Thorin, his fists clenched as if to punch him.   
“Vana!” Ori’s hand appeared in front of me, reaching down for my arm and he and Balin helped me to my feet. I gently placed a hand on my jaw and was relieved to see there was no blood.   
“I’m fine,” I said, wincing as my jaw protested furiously. “It’s nothing.”   
“Come away lass,” Balin said softly and before I could even protest, he and Ori were hurrying me down the steps of the barricade. At the bottom they ushered me off to the side, gently sitting me down on a boulder.   
“Count your stars, lass,” I heard Óin’s worried voice just as he appeared in front of me, gently taking my face in his hands and peering me. “Did you feel a break? Did you hit your head when you went down?”   
“No!” I hissed, batting his hands away from my face. “I said it’s nothing.” Unfortunately the simple act of speaking was making my jaw ache even more and it seemed to show.   
“That’s going to leave a beast of a bruise,” Óin observed.   
“Look out!” Balin alerted us as Thorin stomped down the steps, his face dark red with anger. The three dwarves immediately moved in front of me, forming a barrier between us, but Thorin simply stormed past, into the corridors leading to the throne room, as if he had completely forgotten I was there. I watched him go, rubbing my jaw lightly, trying to ease the ache slowly burning beneath my skin like a steady campfire. The others were not far behind him, each dwarf heading in my direction.   
“Vana!” Kíli shoved his way towards me and dropped to his knees in front of me. “Are you hurt? Let me see!” His armoured hand suddenly connected roughly with my sore jaw, sending another fresh round of pain through the right side of my face and making me gasp loudly.   
“Oh, Mahal! I’m sorry!” He pulled his hand away and removed his armoured gloves before gently raising his hand again. I caught it before he could touch me and lowered it to my lap.   
“I already said I’m fine,” I hissed. “I just lost my balance.”   
“He hit you!” Kíli said, his face contorting in anger once again. “By Durin, I could kill him!”   
“Don’t say things like that, Kíli,” Dwalin told him sharply. “Not at a time like this!”   
“He’s not even going to fight!” Kíli shouted, getting to his feet and pointing after Thorin. “He won’t fight for his own kin but he’ll try to kill Bilbo! And my One! _Your_ daughter!”   
“This isn’t helping, Kíli,” Fíli said more softly but his voice was dark and shaky. Kíli, always the less controlled, was too angry to stop.   
“This is wrong! We should be out there fighting, not cowering in here like frightened rabbits!”   
“Aye, we all know that lad,” Glóin snapped. “But we can’t go out there without our king.”   
“He’s not a king right now! He’s certainly not my king! Nor is he my uncle!”   
“Kíli!” I couldn’t listen to anymore. I forced myself to my feet, ignoring the way my head began to spin, and went to him, grasping his arms firmly and turning him to face me. “Don’t do this. Please, calm down.”   
His chest heaved with heavy breaths but as he looked at me, slowly his deep, brown eyes that I loved so much began to soften. I leaned forward to place my forehead against his, moving my hand up to stroke his hair.    
“I’m all right, I promise. Please?”    
A long silence fell around us, broken only by the echoes of screams and clashes of metal from outside. It seemed so far away behind the stone wall, and yet too close. The roars of the orcs were enough to make my hands twitch in anticipation, itching to hold Ringil, and my legs burn with the need to run. I could feel Kíli’s muscles tense beneath my hands even as his breathing slowed and he slowly pulled away to look back at me. To almost anyone else, his expression would have been unreadable, but I knew in that moment just how afraid he was, not only of the battle raging outside, but the one inside also.   
“The Elves!” Nori called to us, and we turned to see him looking back from the hole in the barricade. “They’ve joined the fight! The orcs are storming the city and the men are retreating back to Dale!”   
The pang in my chest was enough to distract me from the pain in my jaw. My mind flooded with images of Sigrid, Bain and little Tilda, of orcs and their beasts, and I clung to Kíli even more tightly. He wrapped his arms around me then, holding me tight against him, as if he could block the whole situation out for me.   
We all remained silent as the noises of battle seeped into the very stone and surrounded us.


	9. One Last Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are all going to hate me.

_ Vana _

The sounds of the battle outside were slowly melding into one big echo. I had no idea how long it had been going on for now, it could have been hours or days, or mere minutes. The dwarves had removed their heavy armour, unable to stand the confines of it, and the weight after so long on the road. Some of the dwarves, such as Dwalin and Kíli, were pacing, fiddling with their weapons, unable to sit or stand still with the noise going on outside. Others, such as Ori and Óin, were simply sitting and staring at the ground, their faces sombre and fearful. I sat on an upturned pillar, turning the bow Kíli had given me over in my hands while he paced back and forth in front of me.   
“Kíli,” I addressed him softly. “Please sit down.”   
“I can’t,” he said gruffly. “If I stop I’ll go mad.”   
“Please?” I said again, reaching out to take his hand. He stopped at my touch and looked down at me, his expression softening as he saw the obvious fear in my eyes. The roar of the orcs’ war beasts and the blasts of their horns seemed to grow even louder, and the screams of the dying even closer.   
Nobody thought to ask how the battle was going, nor did anyone venture to the barricade to look. We didn’t need to verify that we were losing.   
With a shaky breath, Kíli’s hand locked into mine and he slowly sat next to me, letting me lay my head on his shoulder and in turn resting his head against mine.   
“We should be out there,” he said softly for the hundredth time.   
“I know,” I replied. “Bilbo’s out there. Gandalf, Bard, the children...”   
I couldn’t help the way my voice broke as the images of Bard’s children filled my head once again and Kíli let out a shaky breath as he nestled even closer to me.   
“I wish there was something I could say, or do,” he whispered.   
From then on everyone remained silent, listening to the roar of battle creep ever closer. I closed my eyes against the noise, trying to focus on the warmth of Kíli’s body next to mine, and the strength and comfort of his hand. It was only when a thud of boots on stone began to echo around the hall that I opened my eyes to find Dwalin storming down the walkways towards the throne room.

_ Dwalin _

The throne room was always the most impressive part of the mountain to Dwalin; even when he was a dwarfling he always felt a surge of pride when he set foot in that room. It was a huge cavern as vast and deep, if not more so, than the treasure chamber. The throne itself sat in the centre of an open walkway that stretched all the way across the cavern, and from it the king could see all through the main halls of the mountain. The vast expanse of stone balconies and walkways meant that everyone in the kingdom could gather in there to witness the events taking place in that room if the king wished it.   
Now, however, it was just as vast and impressive, but at the same time dark, empty and lifeless as Dwalin stormed down the central walkway towards the throne. Just as he suspected, there sat Thorin, cloaked in his grand armour and furs, wearing the raven crown of his forefathers, and gazing lifelessly at the ground like an old miser. The sight filled Dwalin with a fury that gave him the surge of confidence to finally tell Thorin exactly what he thought.   
“Since when do we forsake our own people?” he demanded loudly as he climbed the steps to the throne, stopping only when he was almost directly in front of his king. “Thorin, they are dying out there!”   
For a moment Thorin leaned forward slightly, his eyes darting from side to side as he appeared to be thinking hard. Frowning, Dwalin waited patiently for his answer and finally Thorin began to speak in a soft voice.   
“There are halls beneath halls within this mountain,” he said. “Places we can fortify. Shore up, make safe! Yes!” He leapt to his feet, looking at Dwalin with an urgent expression.   
“Yes, that is it. We must move the gold further underground to safety.” He turned and began to walk away and the fury in Dwalin’s chest threatened to explode out of him like dragon-fire.   
“Did you not hear me?” He almost yelled before forcing himself to lower his voice. “Dáin is surrounded! They’re being slaughtered Thorin.”   
Thorin only looked at the floor, his face sinking into an expression blank of any feeling.   
“Many die in war,” he said flatly, turning his lifeless eyes to face Dwalin. “Life is cheap. But a treasure such as this cannot be counted in lives lost. It is worth all the blood we can spend.”   
Never in his life had Dwalin thought he would ever desert his friend’s side, nor doubt his orders, but at this very moment, he no longer recognised his king.   
“You sit here in these vast halls with a crown upon your head,” he said to Thorin, watching his face carefully for his reaction. “And yet you are lesser now than you have ever been.”   
To his surprise, Thorin’s eyes suddenly seemed to fill with tears, and he looked at Dwalin with a pained expression.   
“Do not speak to me,” he said softly, his voice cracking slightly, as if unable to bear the pressure of speaking. “As if I were some lowly dwarf lord. As if I were still - Thorin - Oakenshield…” He looked away, lifting a hand to his face as if to shield himself before turning to Dwalin with a new rage.   
“I AM YOUR KING!”   
He saw the sword coming before Thorin even drew it and it took no effort on Dwalin’s part to dodge the full bodied swing that almost knocked Thorin off his feet.   
“You were always my king!” he said sharply, taking another step towards him. “You used to know that once. Bilbo was right, you cannot see what you have become.” He met his old friend’s gaze, searching desperately for any type of recognition, hoping beyond hope for a morsel of his old friend. For a moment, he thought he saw Thorin’s sparkle return, but it was tinged with a deep sadness, and he thought later that it might have just been a reflection of his tears.   
“Go,” he said to Dwalin, his voice once again breaking with the effort of speaking. “Get out. Before I kill you.”   
Dwalin released a shaky breath he never realised he was holding as he took one last hopeful look at Thorin. Any hint of his old friend he thought he could have seen disappeared as Thorin regarded him, his eyes growing steadily darker, his face draining of expression. The sight of it sent shivers up his spine and he had to take a moment to steel himself before turning to walk away, moving slowly back down the walkway with the crushing weight of loss on his shoulders.

He couldn’t have told anyone how long it took for him to reach the entrance hall again, but when he did the Company all turned hopefully to face him. His face told them everything they needed to know and he found that he couldn’t meet any of their eyes as he moved slowly towards his brother, who watched his movements with a deep sadness in his eyes.   
“Dwalin?”   
A small voice pulled him out of the limbo he found he had fallen into and he turned to see Vana’s wide green eyes full of worry as she reached out to touch his arm. He shook his head in answer to her wordless question and found that he couldn’t hold back a staggered sob as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close.   
For a brief moment he hugged her back, letting his emotions loose and her comforting embrace in, but only for a moment. He then pulled away, huffing slightly and nodding to her in thanks. She managed to give him a small smile before turning to head back to Kíli’s side.

_ Kíli _

He watched the exchange between Vana and Dwalin with mixed emotions. The look on Dwalin’s face was…haunted to say the least. He had never seen the gruff warrior so upset before. Whatever his uncle must have said… It made Kíli’s blood boil. Beyond them, further down the hall the golden floor in the gallery was reflecting the sunlight, now raised high enough to climb in over the barricade and illuminate the Entrance Hall. It must almost be midday by now. The battle had been going for a number of hours. He barely noticed Vana sit back down beside him. His fists clenched hard in his lap, his foot started tapping impatiently on the stone floor and his breathing started to speed up. His heart pounded hard in his chest and he felt the familiar surge of anger rear its ugly head – until Vana’s small hand appeared on his knee, stilling his movements and pulling his attention towards her.   
She gazed at him with a sad, yet knowing expression. He knew she wanted to be out there as well, but she was always better at controlling her emotions than him.   
He gave a small nod to tell her he was calming down and she gave a small smile in return, before another great roar from outside forced it from her face.   
Ducking his head, Kíli closed his eyes, trying to keep himself calm. He didn’t know how long they all waited there, but when Kíli next looked up a shadow was growing in the light reflected off the golden floor.   
Slowly, the figure of his uncle appeared out of the light, striding towards them with his sword held in his hand. His golden armour, cloak and crown were gone, leaving him, much like the rest of them, in his light armour and travelling clothes. His gaze locked onto Kíli’s as the young prince stood, his jaw clenched in an attempt to control his temper. Slowly, ignoring the feeling of Vana watching him intently, he marched slowly towards his uncle.   
“I will not hide behind a wall of stone while others fight _our_ battles for us!” He couldn’t stop himself from shouting these last words, shaking his head slightly as he continued. “It is not in my blood Thorin!”   
Thorin stopped in front of him, his blue eyes gazing intently into Kíli’s brown, and the young dwarf could see a familiar light had returned to them.   
“No, it is not,” Thorin said softly. “We are sons of Durin, and Durin’s folk do not flee from a fight.” A small smile turned his uncle’s lips and Kíli felt tears overwhelm his defences as his relief seemed to pour out of him. He nodded slightly, his lips trembling with the effort to remain stoic as Thorin gripped his shoulder reassuringly and they locked foreheads.   
It was as if he had been buried under the broken columns of Erebor’s entrance hall and now they had been lifted off of him as Kíli looked into his uncle’s eyes once again. Thorin pulled away from him with a small nod before looking past him to the rest of the Company. Kíli allowed himself a triumphant smile as Thorin walked past him towards the others, turning to follow him when his uncle addressed them all.   
“I have no right to ask this of any of you,” he said to them, no longer gruffly ordering or yelling or threatening, only asking: “But will you follow me? One last time?”    
Those dwarves who were sitting got to their feet, those who were standing picked up their weapons, and Kíli saw his brother give a small nod, looking impressively calm as he beheld his king.   
Vana, who was looking at Thorin with a mixture of relief and reverence, caught Kíli’s eye with a small smile which he returned as he went to her side, picking his sword up from the ground.   
“If you decide to do this,” Thorin continued softly. “Understand, you may not return.”   
In one seemingly synchronised movement, the company all raised their weapons, Vana drawing Ringil slowly from its sheath. In the sunlight Ringil shone a silvery-blue colour – the colour of ice that would never melt, and Kíli felt his blood rush with a new heat at the sight.   
In front of him, Dwalin had approached Thorin, laying a hand on his shoulder as he regarded him with renewed respect.   
“Lead on,” he said softly and Thorin only nodded in response.   
Beside him, Bombur marched with a new spring in his step towards the steps of the barricade, carrying with him the old war horn from the armoury. He held the massive thing up with ease as he marched up the stairs and Kíli felt his heart start to pound with the familiar rush of adrenaline.   
_We come to it at last_ , he thought to himself, looking back at Vana who he saw was gazing back at him with a new fire in her eyes.   
“To battle,” she said softly.   
“To battle,” he nodded in response. “Do you still have my runestone.”   
She nodded, her hand moving to her pocket and Kíli smiled warmly at her.   
“Keep it with you, as a promise,” he whispered.   
She nodded again before her lips parted to give way to a shaky breath.   
“I have nothing to give you,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her. He raised his hand to her face, stroking his fingers softly down her cheek.   
“How about one more kiss?” he said, smiling cheekily at her. As he expected her face relaxed into an amused chuckle and she shook her head slightly before leaning into lightly press her lips against his.   
“You’ll get another afterwards,” she whispered and he chuckled back at her.   
“I look forward to it Azyûngal,” he said softly before Thorin’s voice broke them out of their reverie.   
“Be ready!”   
With one final gaze at his love’s face, he took her hand and together they walked to his uncle’s side. Glóin was poised by the rope holding the giant golden bell far above their heads, his axe at the ready. Fíli stood on his uncle’s other side and for a moment he and Kíli shared a reassuring look, nodding at each other before readying their swords. On his other side, Vana had re-sheathed Ringil and drawn three arrows, nocking them to her bowstring with a concentrated expression.   
Around them the entire company were poised, weapons at the ready, waiting for the charge. The roar of battle surged outside once again and Thorin raised his sword arm towards Bombur, who was poised at the top of the barricade, off to the side away from the gateway itself with the horn at the ready.   
“NOW!” Thorin yelled and Bombur blew into the horn.   
The sound that resonated from the instrument was unlike anything Kíli had ever heard before. It echoed all through the cavern and out into the valley as well, and Kíli thought to himself that he wouldn’t be at all surprised if the dwarves back in the Blue Mountains heard it. As the second horn sounded, Glóin raised his axe and swung it hard into the rope, allowing the great bell to sweep down over their heads.   
With an almighty clang the bell smashed into the barricade, scattering the rocks into a thunderous entropy on the battlefield, set afire in the sunlight. As it swung back, they finally charged, following close behind Thorin, their sights set on the enemy in front of them. Dáin’s forces split apart to let them pass, staring at their king in awe.   
“To the king!” Dáin’s voice called over the remnant echoes of the bell. “To the king!”   
The dwarves flocked behind them, their weapons raised in renewed strength and vigour and Kíli felt the rush of passion and valour from them all swallow him whole as he gripped his sword more tightly. His eyes were fixed on the enemies before him, but still in front of him he saw Thorin raise his sword high in the air with a roar:   
“ **Du bekar!** ”


	10. To Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet Mahal, this is a long one...  
> Okay so, as it turns out, writing battle scenes, even when they're available on screen for you to physically see with your own eyes, is pretty freaking hard. I tried my very best to do it justice, but goddammit, PJ has an extremely active imagination!  
> I finished editing and I couldn't wait to post it, so here it is a day early!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT NOTE: Oh good god the blood...

_ Vana _

The adrenaline was almost overwhelming; emerging into the sunlight with the strength and fervour of all the dwarves following us, was enough to give us all hope that perhaps we could survive this day.  
And as Thorin let loose his war cry, we all followed suit, letting all of our rage towards the enemy out for them all to see.  
The trolls were my first target, stampeding towards us with raised clubs and fists meant to crush us. I nocked three arrows to the bowstring and fired just as Thorin broke through the first line of orcs, hacking savagely at his foes with both sword and shield. The troll in front of him staggered backwards, my arrows protruding from the flesh beneath its chest and I hurriedly ducked beneath the blow of an oncoming orc. I slung my bow over my shoulder and went to draw Ringil as the orc came back around and as it swung again I sliced through its arm before slashing wildly at its throat. It fell back and another came in its place and so the fight began. Four orcs later, I started to search the chaos for Kíli. I thought I had caught a glimpse of him when a tremendous roar caught my attention just in time for me to dive out of the way of a huge, grey foot. The troll was glaring down at me, the arrows still embedded in its chest, its putrid mouth open in a growl as it raised its foot again. I spun out of the way, clutching Ringil tightly as I swung towards the back of its knee. To my surprise the blade sliced clean through the skin, severing tendons and muscle and sending the monster limping backwards with a scream.  
_Elvish blades,_ I reminded myself.  
The growl of another troll sounded from my left and I turned to see an even bigger troll staggering forward under the weight of an orcish catapault strapped to its back, manned by an orc who was reeling the spring back in preparation to fire. Renewing the grip I had on Ringil, I sprinted forward, darting in front of the troll’s legs and slicing open its knees. It gave a startled roar and staggered back, the weight of the catapault toppling it onto its back before the mechanism triggered and it was thrown into the air, flipping clumsily so it landed on its neck and moved no more.  
Another snarl caught my attention just in time for me to catch the orcs coming towards me – one, two, three, four of them.  
I let out a yell as they charged, bringing up Ringil to block the first blade and spinning out of the way of the second. I sliced one in the gut and kicked another between the legs; I managed to stab one through the chest when suddenly the other went flying, knocked away by Bombur’s heavily armoured belly.  
“We’ve got your back lass!” he shouted as Bofur and Bifur appeared either side of him, taking down the orcs in their paths with a series of Khuzdul curses. At a shout from Nori, Bofur grabbed an axe from the head of a dead orc and flung it into the orc grappling with Nori, who then threw it to Ori.  
“Vana!”  
Stupidly, I whipped my head round to see both Fíli and Kíli sprinting towards me, the look of terror on their faces the only warning I had before, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the troll I had shot lunge forward. I leapt aside, narrowly avoiding its stubby fingers closing around the space I had just been standing, and took the opportunity to slice another gash into its arm before dancing away, turning its attention away from the oncoming dwarves. It gave a roar of frustration and lunged again, stumbling on its bleeding leg. Behind it, Fíli darted in front of his brother, dropping into a crouch while Kíli took a running leap, vaulting off of Fíli’s back and onto the troll’s, plunging his sword into the flesh above the troll’s hip. The troll bellowed, falling forward and smashing to the ground, causing the very earth to shudder and Fíli ran up to the side of the troll’s head, stabbing his blade deep into the soft bone behind its eyes. The troll gave one last pained groan and then was still.  
Wrenching their swords free, the two brothers rushed to my side.  
“You alright?” Kíli asked.  
“Aye,” I nodded, adjusting my grip on Ringil. “Where to next?”  
“Thorin!” Fíli barked, pointing to his uncle who was quickly becoming surrounded by orcs.  
“Cover us!” Kíli yelled at me before sprinting towards his uncle with his brother. I dropped Ringil to the ground, readying my bow and firing into the orc throng surrounding Thorin. I managed to fell three of the creatures before two of them spotted me and broke off to charge towards me. I managed to shoot one through the neck but picked up Ringil again to deal with the second. I then charged in, blocking a blow meant for Fíli and forcing the orc away before stabbing it through the chest.  
The orcs closed in around us and before long it was more than I could do just to swing Ringil. I blocked and slashed as best I could, but how many I actually damaged was impossible to tell. The sun was high and even in the brisk winter air the heat and stench of battle was becoming unbearable. Behind the throng of orcs, I couldn’t help but groan at the sight of another troll, with its limbs replaced by giant, evil maces set to crush any in its path. As it turned towards us I could see it was blind, and being steered by two chains attached to its eyelids. It would have been pitiable had it not been heading right towards us.  
“Incoming!” I yelled to the others, hacking at the orcs as best I could, but there was no way we could get out of its path.  
Then, much to our shock, the troll raised its arm and smashed it into the orcs. As it stomped past us, substantially thinning the orc mass around us I looked up to see Bofur, pulling clumsily on the chains.  
“Bofur!” I yelled. “Away from us please!”  
“This is harder than it looks, lass!” I heard him shout back before another orc pulled my attention back.  
I finally managed to fight my way into a space big enough to slice an orc’s head from its shoulders when I spun around and found Ringil crossed with one of Dwalin’s axes.  
For a split second we stared at each other before an unspoken understanding had us turn so we were back to back, pressed against each other as we moved, taking down orcs from all sides.  
“You’re in my spot you old mule!” I yelled with a mad laugh.  
“‘Old mule’ is it?” Dwalin growled. “I won’ forget that when this is over!”

_ Kíli _

His arms were beginning to ache despite the rush in his veins that heightened his senses and gave him new strength, but finally, it seemed to Kíli, the orc numbers were depleting. The battle was savage, everything and nothing he expected all at the same time. There were no breaks, no spare seconds between enemies to breathe or think, just orcs and more orcs to take their places when they fell to his blade. He tried to keep Vana in his sights but the chaos of battle meant that most of the time he could barely see an arm’s length in front of him, and any vision he had was obscured by orc armour and flesh.  
But now, finally, he had a few seconds to breathe. The orcs were bustling around them, trying to stay in groups as they attacked the dwarven front, who were still outnumbered but holding fast.  
His eyes darted around in search of Vana and then he spotted her, fighting beside Balin, who was spinning his blade around him with more speed and agility than Kíli would ever have thought possible.  
His brother wasn’t far from them and he charged towards him, cutting down two orcs in his path.  
“Fíli!” he cried, shoving an orc out his brother’s reach and slicing deep into its gut.  
“Here!” Balin’s voice drew both of them back towards him. Vana was still fighting. Balin was standing next to an empty chariot, waving them over with his sword. “Get on!”  
His sense of irony and surrealism all but crushed into the blood-stained dirt, Kíli shared a glance with his brother before they sprinted towards Balin.  
“Hold on!” Balin cried before climbing onto the top of the chariot and taking the reins.  
“Are you sure you remember how to drive this?” Dwalin called gruffly to him as he climbed onto the front, situating himself behind a huge crossbow.  
“Almost as sure as I was about the flash flame!” Balin called back.  
“Where’s Thorin?” Fíli shouted as he climbed in, followed closely by Kíli.  
“Over there!” Balin told them, pointing over their heads. They turned and spotted him not more than fifty feet away, climbing onto a battle goat.  
“Let’s go!” Dwalin yelled and Balin gave a flick of the reins. The goats sped forwards, almost knocking Kíli to the floor. As he righted himself, he spotted an abandoned bow and a few arrows by his feet and picked them up, slinging the bow over his shoulder.  
“Halt!”  
Balin pulled the goats to a stop next to Thorin.  
“It’s been a while since I’ve done this!” Balin admitted. Thorin regarded the scene for about half a second before reining his goat round with a yell.  
“To Ravenhill!”  
“Hold tight lads!” Balin called as the goats sped off, following Thorin towards the oncoming orc army.  
“Yer all mad bastards!” Dáin called after them. “I like it!”  
Kíli grabbed the side of the chariot, a swift pang of fear jolting into his heart, followed by the inexplicable rush that filled his bones with strength, and yet he found himself turning to Vana, who was still fighting on the ground. She hadn’t seen him, and now she was fighting next to Nori and Ori.  
“Kíli!” His brother caught his attention and Kíli saw him look briefly towards Vana before turning back to him.  
“Thorin needs us,” he said, his face set in a determined look. “We can finish this.”  
Nodding, Kíli gripped his sword tighter, his other hand steadying himself on the edge of the chariot, chancing one last glimpse of his love as it sped away, following his uncle who was galloping fearlessly into the orc horde that lay between them and the tower. And the Pale Orc.  
_She’ll be safer this way. Azog can’t touch her down here. She’ll understand that._  
That last part was a lie, he knew that, but it gave him some comfort. He steeled himself and lowered his sword to the wheel, listening to the beautifully familiar sound of sharpening steel.

_ Vana _

The orc group was disbanded and I let myself heave a sigh of relief as I reached down to pull Ori up from where he’d fallen to the ground. He was shaken, but unhurt. On my other side, Nori was still fighting and I took the chance to search for Kíli.  
He was nowhere to be seen. I turned back to Ori, who was adjusting the grip on his warhammer.  
“Can you see Kíli?” I shouted over the roar of the battle. Ori’s large eyes began to dart over the battlefield and he began to shake his head in denial before suddenly freezing and pointing over my shoulder. I looked round but only saw the battle still raging around us. Then I spotted movement amongst the orc ranks further away and squinted to see more clearly.  
A chariot was speeding through the orc ranks, knocking aside any in their path as they headed north to the hill. On top of the hill was the watchtower upon which Azog had set up his command post.  
_The watchtower…_  
The images flooded my head in a series of flashes.  
_Fíli_ _falling._  
Kíli dead.  
Thorin dead.  
Bilbo weeping.  
Crumbling towers.  
Fire and smoke.  
Ice and mists.  
Drums and death.  
“Kíli!” I screamed, my gut clenching in terror. “COME BACK!”  
He was too far away. They all were. Kíli, Fíli, Thorin and…  
“DWALIN!”  
The fear exploded out of me and I broke into a run, charging after them with Ringil clutched tightly in my hands.

_ Kíli _

Thorin reached the orcs first, knocking aside any orcs his goat didn’t get first, and they joined him not long after. The goats threw aside any in their path while the spikes on the chariot’s wheels cut them to pieces, bumping wildly as it ran over any downed orcs. Balin gave a mad laugh as he steered them through, while Dwalin was in his element, firing the crossbow rapidly into the orcs, his aim never failing. Meanwhile Kíli and his brother took down any orcs that made it to the chariot with a well-aimed slash of their swords.  
They were unstoppable.  
Kíli looked up at the sound of the orc horn thundering around them and felt the fear lance through him once again as he saw the trolls advancing towards them.  
“Watch out!” he warned Balin as the old dwarf steered the chariots towards a heap of rock. The goats leapt nimbly on top of it and off again, over the heads of the trolls and the chariot soared through the air, the spikes of the wheels taking the heads off the trolls as it went. Kíli watched with a mixture of horror and youthful excitement, barely feeling the blood spattering his armour. Behind him, Dwalin was roaring in victory.  
“Eyes front lads!” Balin brought them out them out of their reverie and they turned to see a larger, heavily armoured troll sprinting towards them, its hands armed with huge blades that it swung towards them. With a yank of the reins, Balin swerved the chariot out of its path, causing Dwalin to fall into Kíli and smash him against the side of the chariot with a groan.  
He felt Dwalin pull him back up and looked forward to find they were heading straight for the frozen river that ran from the mountain to the Lake.  
“Hold on!” Dwalin yelled as the goats leapt from the hillside onto the ice, skidding into the rock face on the other side before galloping on. The chariot followed their path, smashing into the rocks before being pulled sharply away and it was all the Kíli could do to cling to the chariot for dear life.  
“I’m out!” Dwalin shouted and Kíli managed to steady himself for long enough to hand him another round of bolts. Above them came a huge roar and Kíli whipped round to see the armoured troll leap onto the ice behind them, smashing straight through into the river. With a series of furious screams, it smashed the ice in front of it, wading through the river at an astonishing speed even as the goats galloped furiously down the river.  
His old instincts kicked in and Kíli slung his bow round.  
“Bring it down!” Dwalin yelled as he nocked an arrow. “Shoot it!”  
“Where?” Kíli called back, desperately searching its armour for a weak spot.  
“In its jambags!” Dwalin yelled, his eyes widening madly.  
Taking aim, Kíli searched for his target as the troll got closer and closer.  
“It doesn’t have any jambags!” he shouted exasperatedly.  
“Duck!” Fíli yelled and Kíli turned back to see it raising a bladed hand to finish them. He raised his bow and fired instinctively, hitting the creature in the eye and causing it to fall back.  
“Move it!” Dwalin yelled as the troll picked up speed again.  
“Hang on lads, I’m coming!”  
The sound of Bofur’s voice reached them just before the sight of a huge mace smashing into the armoured troll’s neck. The mace, as it turned out, was the replacement of the arm of the troll that Bofur was riding; a troll whose arms and legs had been replaced each by huge maces.  
_Now I’ve definitely seen everything,_ Kíli thought to himself as Bofur continued to drive his troll at the other and they all let out shouts of victory.  
“Bofur, you beauty!” Fíli yelled as the chariot skidded around the bend of the river and Bofur and his trolls were lost to their sight.  
Looking forward, Kíli groaned as he saw yet another troll, this time having ripped up a wooden walkway containing orc forces. Readying his bow, Kíli fired arrow after arrow at the troll, seeing Fíli out of the corner of his eye doing the same.  
“Dwalin!” Balin shouted.  
“Go!” Dwalin called back, firing the crossbow again and again at the troll as it turned to face them with a growl. “Come on you hairy hedgepig! Come on!”  
_Hairy hedgepig?_ He’d have to remember that one for Vana.  
The crossbow finally hit home and the troll collapsed back, just in time for the goats to bound over its body and back onto the ice.  
Their cries of victory were cut short by all too familiar growls.  
“Wargs!” Kíli shouted, gritting his teeth as he saw the creatures that had almost killed his One and he dropped his bow to the floor to take up his sword once again.  
The first two wargs pounced on the goats at the front, tearing them from their harnesses and causing the chariot to veer sharply in either direction. Dwalin fired into the oncoming wargs and Kíli hung on to the chariot, watching the sides for any coming from behind.  
“Hold tight lads!” Balin called before steering the chariot to the side, smashing the wargs beside it into the rocks.  
A third goat fell to another warg and Kíli could see at least half a dozen more behind them, and they were slowing down.  
“There’s more coming!” he yelled.  
“We’re pulling too much weight!” Dwalin growled.  
“Cut the tracers!” Kíli whipped round at Balin’s words, seeing the old dwarf looking down at his brother with a determined expression. “Ride them to Ravenhill!”  
“No Balin,” Dwalin said, looking at his brother almost angrily, but Balin only smiled.  
“My goat-riding days are over.”  
Kíli caught his Fíli’s eye as Dwalin grasped his older brother’s arm.  
“Durin be with you brother,” Balin said, and Fíli nodded to Kíli before leaping off the front of the chariot and onto the metal harness connecting the goats. As nimble as the goats pulling them, Fíli went for the goat at the front, and Kíli’s blood ran cold as a mounted orc bounded towards him. With a loud grunt, Fíli parried the orc’s sword, ducked and cut down the warg, sending it tumbling to the ground and under the chariot’s wheels. He leapt onto the goat’s back and cut the harness with a single swing of his sword. As soon as he was loose, Kíli followed, leaping onto the next goat and cutting it free. Dwalin was close behind him and they bounded away, hearing the skid of the chariot along the ice as they left it behind.  
“Mahal save you Balin,” Kíli uttered aloud, fighting the instinct to look back at the old dwarf.  
They galloped down the icy river, Kíli gripping the goat desperately with both arms and legs. It was much, much different to a pony and much less comfortable. His eyes darted back and forth over the hillside by the river, searching for his uncle, until he finally spotted him, unharmed, charging across the stone bridge which marked the main path up to Ravenhill.  
“Onwards!” Thorin called down to them as he reached the other side.  
“Lead on!” Dwalin called back and the three goats wheeled round to dart up the rocky hillside, falling in behind Thorin onto the path.  
Several orcs were charging down the path towards them and Kíli urged his goat to go faster. Thorin, however, simply cut down the first with a swing of his sword, then the next, grabbing the orc’s spear and using it to take down the rest before galloping onwards. The incredible rush of battle heated Kíli’s blood at the sight and he urged goat to go as fast as possible to catch up to his uncle.

_ Vana _

I collapsed against the side of the cliff, breathing heavily and trying to ignore the warm blood drenching the side of my face.  
_Not my blood!_ I reminded myself and wiped off with the sleeve of my left arm. It stained the material of Bard’s cardigan a horrible dark brown.  
I’d made it past the enemy throngs, and could see the path up to Ravenhill. The bridge leading to it was still too far away, extending out of Dale which was surrounded by orcs. I had no chance of making it round the cliff to the steps unseen, there was a frozen river in my way and I barely had the energy to walk never mind fight.  
I ran to the river’s edge, and almost thanked Mahal himseld out loud for the bodies of two trolls lying across the river. I leapt down and sprinted over them, staring desperately around me for a dwarven path, until I realised I hadn’t seen the route the goats had taken.  
Cursing, I peered at the hillside, trying to find a set of steps, a less steep incline, anything to get me up there. Around the back of the towers, I could see it was less steep, so, with a deep breath, I resheathed Ringil on my back, grabbed a hold of the rock face above my head and began to climb. The stone was freezing, and many parts were slippery with ice and snow, but I forced myself and my burning limbs to go on.  
The images from the vision were ruthlessly pounding at the forefront of my mind, pushing me onwards and before long I had settled into a rhythm.  
_They have to survive. They have to survive._ _They have to survive._

_ Kíli _

_Never again,_ Kíli thought to himself as the goat bounded around the rock face. He could see all the way down to the frozen river below and it made his stomach churn.  
In the few minutes he had been clinging to this sparse mound of fur he had never missed solid ground more. The goat leapt from point to point with tremendous speed and agility, as sure-footed as a pony on flat ground, but Kíli still promised himself he would walk back. As his goat reached the top of the mountain, he clutched his sword tighter as it leapt over the crumbling wall of the tower. It landed on the stone floor right in front of a group of orcs who growled and brandished their weapons before charging forward. He leapt off, thankfully landing on his feet and immediately set to work.

_ Vana  _

I felt as if my arms would fall off and my gut would twist into a knot. I could hear the sound of the goats hooves above me mixed with the crashing and shouting of battle but my limbs would move no faster. I heaved myself up over the final piece of rock and found myself on the main path. It wound up and round to the top, but there was no way I could get there fast enough, not without a mount. I collapsed against the rock face, my chest heaving with the effort and my stomach churning. I felt the sudden urge to vomit, but it seemed my body was too tired to do even that. The chainmail was weighing me down heavily, so I quickly removed my sword and bow from my back before removing it, dumping in a pile on the path.  
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the sound of fighting above my head stopped. Aside from the distant roar of the battle still raging below me, there was nothing but silence, which, believe it or not, was even more frightening.  
The cold rush of dread that coursed through my veins was enough to make me haul myself back to my feet and grab a hold of the rock face again.  
_They have to survive. They have to survive.  
_ On and on I climbed, ignoring the burning of my muscles as they screamed for me to stop.  
_They have to survive.  
_ Above I could hear Dwalin yelling. That sound I knew well; he was about to fight. Thorin’s voice joined him and was then mixed with the screeches of goblins. I swallowed hard as my mind whirred with memories of whips and slick, scraggly fingers touching my skin, gritting my teeth as I pushed on upwards.  
_They have to survive. They have to survive._

_ Kíli _

With a final blow to the head, Kíli slew his last orc and suddenly the four of them were shrouded in silence, save for their heavy breathing and slow whistle of the wind blowing the icy mist around them. He could see the ancient, broken shards of the second tower beyond them sticking out of the cloud, but no sight nor sound of Azog, nor any other creature.  
“He’s gone,” Fíli breathed from next to him.  
“I think Azog has fled,” Kíli said, turning to face his brother, but Fíli was still peering into the towers, his eyes narrowing. Beside him, Thorin was staring up at the towers, his eyes darting feverishly amongst the shattered walls and floors and Dwalin, likewise, was peering all around him as if Azog could jump out from anywhere.  
“I don’t think so,” Thorin finally said and Kíli looked back up at the towers, suddenly feeling the cold much more keenly. He jumped slightly as Thorin suddenly spun to face them.  
“Fíli, take your brother and scout the towers. Keep low and out of sight. If you see anything, report back. Do not engage, do you understand?”  
Before Kíli could even register his uncle’s orders, a series of high-pitched screeches reached their ears and they turned to see an onslaught clambering over the wall towards them like insects.  
“Goblin mercenaries,” Dwalin growled. “No more than a hundred.”  
“We’ll take care of them, go!” Thorin barked, moving to Dwalin’s side and readying his sword. With a final glance at the mercenaries, Kíli reluctantly followed his brother as they sped down the steps towards the ice field, sheltering under a jagged piece of the rock face as they heard the fight start above them. He gritted his teeth and fought the instinct to charge back up there, watching as Fíli peered around them before turning back to Kíli and nodding for him to follow. His face was stern, hard-set and grim, and Kíli swallowed hard as the realisation hit him: his brother was afraid.

_ Fíli  _

The towers were dark and musty from disuse, and the rank smell of orc clung to the stone like a rotting moss. They crept through the towers, Kíli close behind him, and as they got higher and higher, the feeling deep in Fíli’s gut that something was wrong grew and grew. They should have seen or heard something by now. They had to be here somewhere.  
“They must have fled,” Kíli whispered. “We would have found them by now if they were still here.”  
Unable to respond, Fíli only nodded. As much as he wished Kíli’s words could be true, something in the back of his mind was screaming that it wasn’t, that something was very wrong. He needed to get Kíli out of there.  
Almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, a loud clang echoed from further down the passageway. Kíli immediately sprang to action, making to charge down there until Fíli stopped him with a hand against his chest.  
“Stay here,” he said softly, but with every morsel of confidence he could muster. “Search the lower levels.”  
For a moment Kíli looked as if he would protest and Fíli turned away, afraid his eyes would give away the nagging doubt in the forefront of his mind.  
“I’ve got this.”  
His words were for his brother, but in a small way they were for himself too, and as Kíli nodded and ran in the opposite direction, Fíli repeated the words to himself in his head. He slowly crept towards the source of the noise, those same three words repeating themselves over and over again.

 


	11. To the Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I have made a huge editing faux-pas... The latter part of the previous chapter should be the beginning of this one. My bad. I can only apologise and fix it here. I'll leave an extra space between the new stuff.  
> Also I now only have wifi at my work which is annoying.
> 
> Anyway, here we go, on with the battle...

_Vana _

By the time I reached the top of the hill my lungs were burning from the icy mist invading them with every breath. I could no longer hear any goblins, nor any dwarves; nothing.  
The ice field lay in front of me but I couldn’t see anyone. I took in the sight of the watchtower and felt my throat tighten. It was the same tower I had seen in my vision and if Fíli and Kíli were in there… I needed to get in there.  
Almost as soon as I took the first step towards it the drums started. One loud beat, followed by two quicker beats, thundering slowly and repetitively over the towers.  
I looked back to the top of the tower. Out of the mists swirling amongst the gaps in the walls loomed a tall pale figure dragging a smaller figure by the scruff of his neck.  
_Fíli!_  
My stomach twisted in a knot as the sound of Azog’s growls reached me. The vision was true all along. This was it. I was too late.  
Azog held Fíli over the edge of the tower, calling down in his terrible language, and I heard Thorin’s name ‘Oakenshield’. He was taunting Thorin, trying to draw him in by killing his nephew in front of him. He held his arm up, a blade lodged into his elbow, replacing the iron claw, aiming for Fíli’s back.    
Almost instinctively, I nocked an arrow in the dwarvish bow and aimed. The orc was too far away. The weight of the bow felt completely wrong, far too heavy, and my shoulder burned from the tension in the string but I pulled back as far as I could.  
“Go!” Fíli called.  
_Please, Mahal, fly true!_ I screamed hopelessly inside my head as I fired.   
“RUN!” Fíli yelled just as Azog pulled his arm back with a roar of pain, staring in shock at the arrow sticking out of his upper arm. He released Fíli who fell to the floor, grabbing onto the stone to stop himself falling.  
I released a breath I didn’t realise I was holding and immediately nocked another arrow.  
“FÍLI!” I screamed as loud as I could, releasing the second arrow. “RUN!”  
The second arrow struck Azog’s shoulder and he recoiled with a furious snarl. Two more orcs stepped in front of him, snarling at Fíli and raising their swords. With a furious cry I fired two more arrows, hitting the first in the neck and the second in the chest.  
“FÍLI!” I screamed for him again as he pulled himself to his feet, grabbing the swords from the fallen orcs as three more advanced towards him.  
“Fíli! Kíli!” Thorin’s voice yelled from somewhere behind me. I loosed another arrow into the orcs surrounding Fíli while he readied the swords, one in each hand, and charged them, disappearing into the mists of the tower.  
I stared, another arrow still nocked, trying to spot the golden hair, trying to catch my breath.

They were all gone. Fíli, Azog, the orcs, they were all gone. I stared at the tower, my arrow still nocked, trying to will my arms to stop shaking.  
The clang of metal upon metal echoed around the towers, followed by the screeching of orcs – in victory or defeat I couldn’t tell. My reactions were automatic: keeping my arrow nocked loosely, I lowered my bow and sprinted towards the towers, climbing the steps onto the entranceway. The walls around me were crumbled in varying levels of disarray, and above me I could see into most of the levels where the walls had fallen away. Searching desperately for the source of the noise, I clambered onto a wall so I could have a clearer view up into the towers. Almost immediately I could see two orcs running down the steps on the higher levels. I took aim and hit the first squarely in the chest, but my next shot missed the second orc by an inch. Cursing loudly, I nocked another arrow and scanned the towers again.  
A few levels down, another orc appeared and I shot it before it could leap from the tower down towards me.  
Unable to see any more, I leapt from the wall and ran down to the steps descending down and around to the back of tower. To my horror I could make out fresh prints in the snow; prints that could only have been left by large, heavy boots.  
“Kíli!” I gasped, following them back into the tower.  
Within the walls, the echoes of the battle clearly happening above my head was almost deafening, the orcs’ screeches reverberating off the walls like a cacophony of broken trumpets. I followed Kíli’s trail, barely remembering to raise my eyes from the ground and almost running headfirst into an orc. With a startled yell I ducked to the side just in time to avoid its swinging blade and, with no time to draw Ringil, drew my bow back and fired straight into the orc’s neck at close range. It collapsed with a splutter and I reached back for another arrow, cursing loudly when I realised I only had three left.  
I sprinted up into the tower, following the sounds of colliding weapons and armour, resisting the urge to call out for Kíli. I couldn’t risk distracting him.   
The next level brought me back into open air and I could hear the clashing strains of battle from all sides, above and below. Below me orcs were streaming through the adjacent tower, and for a brief moment I thought I caught a glimpse of Thorin charging down a walkway with orcs giving chase. I nocked another arrow and aimed, watching the gaps for any sign of movement. Thorin appeared first and paused to turn to them, his sword raised in defence. As soon as the first orc appeared in front of him I loosed the arrow, hitting its sword arm and causing it to stumble from the walkway. Another orc appeared and I shot that one too, but when I drew my final arrow a low growl sounded in my left ear.  
I only just spun out of the way in time and the sheer force of the blade whooshing down past me was enough to make me stagger. I dropped the arrow and blocked the next blow with my bow, yelling in spite of myself at the painful vibrations it sent down my arms. I dodged the next blow by ducking under the orc’s arm, drawing a knife from my belt and plunging it deep into the exposed skin of the orc’s lower leg. The orc collapsed to one knee with a growl and I rammed my knife deep into the back of its neck, withdrawing it immediately and staggering backwards to avoid its body thudding to the ground.  
I leant against the wall, breathing heavily.  
_Stupid, stupid!_ I scolded myself, throwing the now useless bow to the ground and lifting the quiver over my head. I stowed the knife quickly into my belt and drew Ringil.  
_Kíli!_ I screamed inside my head. _I have to get to Kíli!  
_ I ran into the tower and cried out as my foot struck something hard and sent me tumbling to the ground; An orc body. In fact, many orc bodies, littering the ground inside of the tower.  
_Did Kíli do all this?_  
“Kíli!”  
My heart dropped at the sound of Tauriel’s voice; the image of her weeping on the ground flooding my vision; the image of Kíli lying on the ground as if asleep – dead.  
“No-” I choked out, pulling myself to my feet, cursing at the cold, icy ground.  
“Kíli!” She called again.  
“Tauriel!” His voice echoed from far above.  
_He’s close!_ I could barely breathe, dying to call out to him, but my voice wouldn’t work.

 

_ Kíli _

Kíli could only watch in horror as his brother dangled helplessly from the tower far above his head.  
_You liar! You said you had it!_    
He screamed inwardly at himself to run, to do something, but his traitorous legs kept him anchored to the ground. He watched powerlessly as his brother begged them to run, trying to convince himself the worst was not about to happen – until Azog roared in pain and stepped back. His brother dropped to the floor and he couldn’t see him anymore.  
“Fíli!”  
Vana’s voice echoed across the ice somewhere in front of him. His eyes rapidly searched the mists but he couldn’t see her. _No! You can’t be here!_  
“Fíli! Run!”  
He saw arrows fly from the mists towards the towers and searched desperately for a glimpse of his brother.  
_He didn’t fall._  
“Fíli!” He took off back into the towers with a yell, clutching his sword tightly.  
_He didn’t fall._  
 “Fíli!”  
The only sounds that reached Kíli’s ears were his footsteps on the icy ground and the growls of his enemies getting closer and closer. He sped up the stairs, coming face to face with a snarling orc raising its crude blade above its head. He parried it with a shout and slashed the orc across the belly before beheading it and continuing on up the stairs. He needed to get to his brother. He needed to get to Azog and carve his heart from his body for laying a hand on his family.  
He slid around a corner only to be faced with two more orcs charging towards him. They screeched in excitement at the sight of him and he yelled as he charged them, ducking under their blades and killing them as fast as he could.  
“Fíli!” he yelled desperately into the mists.  
“Kíli!”  
Kíli froze in the midst of wrenching his sword from the fallen orc’s neck, his eyes darting all around him for any sign of his brother. He saw only snow and cloud.  
“FĺLI WHERE ARE YOU?”  
“I’m coming Kíli! I’m right behind you! Run!”  
He could hear the clash of weapons somewhere above his head. His brother was still fighting. He turned on the spot, desperately looking for another set of stairs. As soon as he spotted them he sprinted forward – right into the path of an oncoming orc whose mace he narrowly avoided. He spun out of the way, tightening his grip on his sword and parrying the orc’s blow so forcefully that the orc stumbled.  
“Kíli!”  
Another voice sounded from below. A woman’s voice – but not Vana’s. He glanced around but his attention was quickly brought back to the orc who charged at him again. He blocked its swing towards his head and spun underneath its arm, driving his sword deep into its back.  
“Kíli!” The voice came again and this time he recognised it.  
“Tauriel?” he called back, wrenching his sword out of the orc’s body.  
A colossal roar echoed around the ruined tower and in amongst the echoes he could hear Tauriel’s pained cries. He was so close to his brother, but Tauriel was just downstairs and she was in danger.  
Another shout from her made his decision and he sprinted towards the edge of the stairs. He could see her thin body smash against the wall before she crumpled to the ground as the huge orc advanced towards her, raising its mace. There was no time to run down the stairs to her, so he leapt with a loud war cry towards the orc.

_ Vana _

I followed the orc bodies through the towers, clutching Ringil with shaking hands. I was about to ascend a set of stairs when a flash of red hair caught my eye and I turned to look down a stone corridor, out onto an open space where Tauriel crumpled against a wall with a groan of pain.  
_This is it._ The words echoed around my head as I went to run to her – only to be thrown back as an orc leapt down the stairs at me.  
“No!” The word came out in a snarl as the orc swung its mace down towards my head. I rolled out of the way and swung Ringil to parry its next attack. The next thing I heard was Kíli’s fierce war cry followed by a deep, rough growl. The orc swung its mace back around with a hiss and I ducked, slashing at its stomach.  
“You will not stop me!” I growled through gritted teeth as I feinted to the left before plunging Ringil into its chest.  
Kíli’s grunts of pain were sounding down the corridor. Tauriel was roaring in fury.  
I wrenched my sword out of its body, leaving it to crumple against the wall as I turned and sprinted down the corridor.  
_Kíli cannot die! Kíli cannot die!_ My head was thundering as I reached the doorway.  
_It held up a huge weapon, the head of a large spiked mace on top, while the bottom of the handle, which it gripped in a huge armoured fist, was sharpened to a crude blade. In front of it, sprawled on the ground, was a tall, female figure dressed in green, with long red hair-  
_ Tauriel was sprawled on the ground at the edge of the tower, moving to get up as the huge orc in front of her raised its mace.  
The sound that left my mouth was inhuman – a combination of terror, grit and utter fury. The blood coursed through my veins in a fiery rush as I surged forward, driving Ringil deep into the orc’s lower back. It let out an agonised roar as its mace fell to the ground and I wrenched Ringil back sending the orc tumbling backwards. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Kíli fall to the ground.  
“Vana!” he cried, his eyes widening in horror.  
_Alive! He’s alive!_  
Rather than fall, to my horror, the orc spun to face me with a growl and lunged forward, its huge arms flying towards me. I tried to feint to the side but it didn’t fall for it and suddenly its hand was locked around my throat while its armoured fist sent Ringil spinning from my hands. Its fingers were the width of my wrist and they pressed relentlessly on my windpipe, making me gasp helplessly. I grasped for one of the knife hilts at my hip as it shifted its grip so its fingers were pressing into the bones at the back of my neck. Just as it raised its other hand to snap my neck, I slashed at its raised palm, slicing deep into its thick flesh, before plunging the knife into its forearm. With a roar of fury, its grip loosened on my neck but it didn’t drop me. Instead it took a step towards the edge of the tower.  
_It’s going to throw me over the edge!_ I realised with a gasp and I hung on desperately to the orc’s arm, kicking out in a last attempt.  
Just as the orc drew its arm back, a flock of red hair filled my vision as Tauriel launched herself at the orc, forcing its arm back. Reflexively, the orcs fingers opened and I slipped to the ground with a thud. I rolled onto my side, heaving air into my lungs and massaging my throat. Above me I could see Tauriel aiming a kick to the orc’s stomach. Her aim was true and the orc fell to one knee, but she let out a cry of pain as it swung a huge fist into the side of her head and she crumpled to the ground. Shoving her motionless body away, it then reached for Ringil where it lay on the ground. Hopelessly, I reached out for it, trying to support my weight on one arm.  
There was a clang of metal and suddenly Ringil’s hilt slid into my hand. I looked up to see Kíli standing where Ringil had lain, slashing at the orc’s chest. It growled and leapt to its feet, grabbing its mace from the ground and swinging it ferociously towards Kíli. He dodged and ducked, dancing his way around the orc, trying to get closer to it. I gripped Ringil tighter and forced my legs to work, getting to my feet as Kíli managed to slice the orc’s leg. Roaring in pain, the orc swung its mace down onto Kíli’s raised sword, making him wince and stagger back with the force of it. With his free hand, the orc grabbed for Kíli again, gripping the front of his armour and throwing him back against the stairs before raising its mace once again.  
With a desperate shout I charged forward, blocking the blow with Ringil. To my surprise the sword seemed to absorb most of the force of the blow, and I was able to force the weapon away from Kíli and spin around to aim a slash at the orc’s gut. Ringil glanced off the orc’s armour and I swung again, this time catching him in the leg.  
The orc would not be beaten back and swung its mace around again, forcing me to retreat away from Kíli, blocking the blows as best I could. What reserves of energy I had were fast ebbing away and I was unable to escape the orc’s armoured foot catching me in the stomach. I fell backwards, groaning as pain exploded through my upper body.  
“Vana!”  
I heard Kíli’s desperate shout right before another furious cry. Tauriel had leapt at the orc once again, this time locking her arms around its neck. With a roar it staggered towards the edge of the tower, pushing at her and spinning on the spot, trying to dislodge her. Tauriel’s foot met the stone wall and she pushed with all of her strength, sending both orc and elf tumbling from the edge of the tower.  
“Tauriel!” I screamed, crawling towards the edge. They were tumbling down the stone walls and I saw Tauriel land at the top of a broken staircase with a pained groan.  
“Vana!” Kíli’s wild gasp preceded his hands locking around my waist. I turned to look up into his deep, brown eyes, wide with fear, and suddenly my hands were grasping at his face and neck.  
“You’re alive!” I gasped stupidly. “You’re alive!”  
“Yes, thanks to you!” he replied hoarsely, pressing me closer to him, burying his hand in my hair.  
The thundering sound of breaking stone echoed from far across the ice field, and we both turned to see the tall watch-tower fall towards us, lodging itself in the gap between the two sides with an almighty crash. At the far side I could see a tall, blonde figure sprinting across it towards where Tauriel had fallen.  
“Tauriel!” Kíli suddenly shouted. “Behind you!”  
I looked down to see Tauriel trying to pull herself to her feet as the orc climbed over the stone, a look of vengeance emanating from its deformed face.  
I looked around desperately before spotting her long daggers discarded on the ground. I pulled myself from Kíli’s grasp, charging across the tower to retrieve them before sprinting back to the edge. The orc was almost upon her now.  
“Tauriel!” I yelled before throwing her daggers down towards her. Her face snapped around to me as her daggers clattered onto the rock by her feet. Behind her, the orc leapt forward to grab her, only to be blocked by Legolas.  
“Go!” Tauriel called up to us, hauling herself upright and reaching for her daggers.  
I had barely nodded before Kíli had grabbed my hand, pulling me to face him.  
“Fíli’s still up there!” he nearly shouted, his face growing visibly paler. I grabbed Ringil from where I’d dropped it on the ground and let Kíli lead me back up the stairs.  
“Fíli!” I shouted desperately.  
There was no answer and we sped up the stairs, calling and calling for the older prince. Kíli was nearly wild with fear as he sprinted up the third set of stairs, his eyes darting frantically around the tower and the many orc bodies that littered the ground.  
“Fíli!” he yelled once more.  
“Up here!” The shout came from the level above us and we shared a panicked glance before charging up the stairs.

Fíli was cornered, one hand gripping his sword and viciously slashing at the three orcs in front of him while the other was pressed into his side and covered in blood. With a furious cry, Kíli leapt towards him, burying his sword into the back of the first orc he came to. Another spun to face me and charged, raising its sword clumsily above its head. I ducked under its swing and slit the back of its leg open, sending it to its knees before beheading it. As I turned to Fíli, he had slashed the third orc across the belly just as Kíli shoved his sword mercilessly into its chest until it collapsed, dead, to the floor.  
Panting heavily, the three of us exchanged looks, before I suddenly let out a cry and stumbled towards them, wrapping my arms around them both.  
“Don’t you ever, _ever_ do that to me again!” I cried as Kíli buried his face into my neck and Fíli wrapped an arm around my shoulders.  
“Are you alright?” Fíli said thickly, hissing as I accidentally nudged his injured side.  
“Us?” Kíli breathed. “You’re hurt, you goat!” He pulled away from me to examine his brother’s side but Fíli shook his head roughly.  
“It’s just a cut, don’t worry. Listen, I can’t find Azog.”  
“What?” I frowned at him.  
“He slipped away after you shot him,” Fíli said to me before gripping my shoulder with a smile. “Remind me to thank you for that later. But in the confusion I got away and managed to fight my way back. I looked for him -”  
“You WHAT?” Kíli bellowed.  
“- but I couldn’t find him. Have you seen him?”  
Kíli shook his head. “Perhaps he fled?”  
“I don’t think so.”  
“Wait,” I gasped as the final images from the vision flooded my mind:  
The field far beneath me was riddled with the bodies of those slain and of those still fighting. A ruined city was burning, and beyond that loomed a huge, lone mountain. Bilbo, his face covered in dirt and blood wept over the body of Thorin, whose lifeless eyes gazed unseeing up at the sky where the eagles flew overhead.   
“Thorin! The ice fields!” I cried, sprinting back down the stairs with the brothers hot on my heels. As we got to the lower levels I looked out onto the ice fields.  
Azog was unmistakable, huge, pale and scarred as he swung a long chain with a huge piece of stone towards the lone figure of Thorin whose feet were then knocked out from under him.  
“THORIN!” Fíli yelled, descending the tower at breakneck speed. Kíli and I followed and I felt the all too familiar pang of dread in my throat as we heard the unmistakable scree of eagles.


	12. Beyond Sorrow and Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *gulps*

_ Vana _

The loud cry of pain that reached our ears as we entered the walls of the tower was all too clear.   
_Thorin!_   
I tried and failed to force the image of him lying dead on the ice from my mind as we charged downstairs, Fíli and Kíli growling as they pushed themselves to run faster. The cold weight of terror was growing in my gut as we went. I had already stopped Fíli and Kíli’s fates from coming true, but now I needed a third stroke of luck. I found myself praying inside my head, offering Mahal anything he wanted in return if I could just stop the last part of this vision from coming true.   
It seemed to take us an age to reach the ice fields, and when we beheld the sight upon them time seemed to freeze entirely.   
Thorin was crouched over the pale body of Azog, sprawled on the ground with Orcrist buried deep into his chest, almost to the hilt. He lay motionless, staring unseeing up at the sky as Thorin slowly raised himself to his feet, breathing heavily and bleeding from a gash in his head. He stared down at the body of his lifelong enemy with a mixed look of relief and shock.   
“Uncle!” Kíli called, taking a few steps forward as he gazed wide-eyed at him. I glanced at Fíli who was still breathing heavily, glaring at the dead body of the orc before his gaze moved to his uncle.   
Thorin slowly raised his head to his nephews, a look of utter relief spreading across his face. His lips parted in a smile as he went to take a step forward, but his legs staggered, as if unable to support his weight and he stumbled forward onto his knees. Fíli and Kíli immediately broke into a run, sprinting across the ice towards him and I followed with a prayer uttered out loud this time. Fíli reached him first, catching him as he began to fall forward and Kíli leapt over Azog’s body to land at his side, falling to his knees as Fíli gently laid Thorin back.   
“My – my sister-sons…” Thorin gasped, coughing loudly, blood pouring out of his side from an unmistakably mortal wound.   
“We’re here, Thorin, we’re right here, it’s all right,” Fíli said softly, he reached down beneath his armour to rip s long strip of material from the bottom of his tunic, balling it up and pressing it into his uncle’s wound.   
“I – I -” Thorin’s words were cut off by another bout of coughing.   
 “Thorin, don’t talk,” I said softly, looking around for any sign of help. “We’ll get you out of here.”   
“Vana?”   
I turned to face him, the look on his face making my throat constrict. There were tears welling in his eyes as he reached out to me. I immediately fell to my knees next to Kíli and grasped his hand firmly.   
“I’m – I’m so sorry - for my words – and – and my actions -”   
“It’s all forgotten, Thorin,” I choked, trying to suppress the emotions threatening to clog my throat. “You weren’t yourself, I understand that.”   
“You – you saved them -” Thorin whispered, squeezing my hand firmly. “Thank you.”   
I shook my head slightly as my eyes filled with tears.   
_This can’t be happening. This isn’t what I saw. I don’t know how to stop this._  
“K-Kíli?” Thorin’s gaze moved to his younger nephew and I released his hand so Kíli could take my place.   
“Uncle, please, hold on.” Kíli’s voice was thick and heavy. I leapt to my feet and began to walk in a circle around them, searching desperately.   
“Help us!” I shouted. “Please, help us!”   
_Wait,_ I suddenly thought to myself. _Dwalin came with them._  
But Dwalin was nowhere to be seen.   
“Dwalin!” I shouted, the cold dread returning in full force as I searched the ice for the gruff old warrior. I raised my hands to my mouth and continued to shout.   
“DWALIN!”

_ Kíli _

“K-Kíli?”   
Kíli immediately moved closer to his uncle, taking his hand as Vana moved away.   
“Uncle, please, hold on,” Kíli begged him. Vana began to shout for help. “Someone will come, just stay with us.”   
“Kíli…” Thorin rasped, coughing loudly again. Kíli flinched as blood pooled at the corner of his mouth, sharing a worried glance at Fíli. “Kíli, I – I want you to know – you’ve always – made – made me proud – and -” he coughed again. “- and I love you.”   
“Uncle, stop, please,” Kíli whimpered in spite of himself. _He never speaks like this._   
“Look after your mother – and – and Vana too – she – she is - one of a kind.”   
Unable to say anymore Kíli only nodded, gripping his uncle’s hand as tightly as he could. He allowed himself to note that his uncle still gripped his hand strongly.   
“Dwalin!”   
Kíli glanced up hopefully, but he couldn’t see the old warrior, only Vana shouting for him.   
“F – Fíli?” Thorin turned to his oldest nephew.   
“I’m here, Thorin.”   
Kíli looked at his brother and found him staring stoically down at their uncle, holding his hand in a fast grip and clenching his jaw, even as his bottom lip quivered.   
“Fíli,” Thorin whispered his name with a smile. “You are truly your father’s son. He would be so – so proud of you. You – you will be a great – noble – king.”   
Fíli visibly flinched as Thorin coughed, more weakly this time. “I…I’m not ready, Uncle.”   
“You are,” Thorin rasped, a smile spreading across his face again. “I promise you are. I always – always knew you would be.”   
“Bilbo!”   
Vana’s startled shout made both princes look up. The hobbit was running and stumbling across the ice, his small sword clenched tightly at his side. His face was streaked with drying blood from a deep cut on the side of his head and his mouth opened in horror as he saw Thorin.   
At the sound of his name, Thorin tried to tilt his head to see the hobbit.   
“Bilbo?”   
“Uncle, please lie still,” Fíli said in a shaky voice.   
“Where’s Dwalin?” Vana demanded, almost angrily as Bilbo approached them.   
“He…he was with me, fighting goblins but I was knocked out…” Bilbo seemed to be groping for words as he knelt next to Thorin, just by Fíli, gagging slightly at the sight of Thorin’s wound.  
Kíli glanced up at Vana who was watching the scene unfold with a look of such despair on her face as Kíli had never seen. She caught his eye briefly and he could see a tear blossoming in the corner of her eye. With a fierce shake of her head she turned and resumed her shouting.   
“Bilbo,” Thorin addressed the hobbit. “I’m g-glad you’re here. I wish to part from you in friendship.”   
“You are not going anywhere Thorin,” Bilbo told him indignantly. “You’re going to live.”   
“Please,” Thorin whispered, his eyes fluttering shut briefly before he forced them open again. “I take back my words and my deeds at the gate. You did what only a true friend would do. F-forgive me. I – I was too blind to see it. I – I am so sorry th-that I have led you into such perils.” His voice broke as he spoke and Bilbo shook his head roughly, forcing a small smile onto his face.   
“No I am glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin, each and every one of them. That is far more than any Baggins deserves.”   
The small smile that stretched across Thorin’s lips was enough to make the breath catch in Kíli’s throat. He screamed at himself in his head to search for help, to do _something_ , but he could not tear his eyes from his uncle’s face, nor his hand from his grip.   
“Farewell, Master Burglar,” Thorin whispered and Kíli suppressed a sob. He felt his brother’s free hand grip his arm and look around to see Fíli fighting tears. Thorin was still gazing at the hobbit.   
“Go back to your books, and your armchair. Plant your trees, watch them grow. I-if more people – valued home above gold, this world would be a merrier p-place…”   
“No, no, no, no! Thorin! Don’t you dare!” Bilbo gulped. “Thorin, please, the eagles are coming!” He pointed weakly to the sky above their heads, where indeed the eagles were soaring, fighting the war-bats in the sky or descending onto the battlefield below.   
“Goblins!”   
Kíli whipped up at Vana’s shout to find her pointing into the north, Ringil brandished in her right hand. “They must have hidden from the eagles!”   
“Bilbo, stay with Thorin!” Fíli ordered the hobbit, grabbing his hand and pressing it over the material blocking Thorin’s wound before leaping to his feet. “Keep pressure on that! And keep him awake!”   
With a final glance down at Thorin who was looking pleadingly at him, Kíli gave his hand one last squeeze before releasing it and grabbing his sword from the ground. He and Fíli ran to Vana’s side as the goblins advanced across the ice. They were disorganised and panicked, screeching at the top of their lungs as they charged towards them.   
“Charge!” Fíli cried, sprinting towards the fray with an animalistic roar. Swallowing the sobs he had been repressing, Kíli followed, Vana at his side, and leapt into the throng of goblins with a loud battle cry.   
“For Thorin!”

_ Vana _

The goblins were mad with rage, almost too easy to disperse. There were well over a hundred of them, screeching and slashing wildly at us. I swung Ringil all around me, slicing as much flesh as I could reach, shouting in furious success whenever I hit home, but still I found myself surrounded, desperately hacking at limbs and heads.   
A pained cry from my left caught my attention and I turned to see Kíli stumbling backwards from a goblin, blood pouring from a cut on his leg. With a furious shout, I threw myself at the goblin, swinging Ringil viciously into his neck to behead him. Behind me, Kíli was already fighting another.   
The goblins grew even more chaotic, shrieking as they bustled around us. I kept on fighting, ignoring the blows to my legs and my sides as I went. My limbs were heavy and tired and my chest felt hot and tight with the effort of breathing. Eventually the crowd of goblins thinned and I could see the others.   
Kíli was limping towards me, a nasty cut blooming on his lower leg. He blocked another hit from an approaching goblin and took it down, wincing as the movements jarred his leg. Fíli was fighting as ferociously as ever, pausing only to wipe the blood from his eyes where it ran from a large, heavy cut on his forehead. Finally, the last goblin fell to his blade and we stood in amongst the bodies, looking to each other and breathing heavily.   
“Fee,” Kíli gasped, his chest heaving. “Your head.”   
“Your leg,” Fíli motioned with his sword, thick with the dark blood of our foes.   
“Thorin,” I breathed, catching sight of his motionless body behind them. They spun round, stumbling their way back to their uncle. Kíli was limping horribly and I wrapped an arm around his waist to help him. We collapsed to the ground by Thorin whose eyes were now closed.   
“He’s not…” Kíli choked, desperately groping at his uncle’s chest.   
“He won’t wake up!” Bilbo gasped, tears pouring down his face. “He’s still breathing but he won’t wake up!”   
“He…he has to…he…” Fíli was wheezing slightly, his voice going light and faint.   
“Fíli, no, come on!” I moved to his side and grabbed his face in my hands. “Stay with us now!”   
“Fee?” Kíli was staring wide-eyed at his brother.   
“I’m all right, Kee,” Fíli said softly, shaking his head slightly. “Just…just dizzy…”    
“We need to get them out of here,” I said to Bilbo, who was looking desperately up at the sky.   
“The eagles,” he said so softly I barely heard him. “The eagles will help.” With that, he got shakily to his feet and ran towards the edge of the ice fields, waving his arms and yelling for them.   
“Help us! Please!”   
“Why are they taking so long?” I demanded angrily. “And where’s Dwalin?”   
“He stayed behind with Thorin when we went into the towers,” Kíli said weakly, taking Thorin’s unresponsive hand in his own. “Please, uncle, please stay with us.”   
“I’m going to look for Dwalin,” I told them.   
“No!” Kíli yelled suddenly, making me jump. “You can’t leave!”   
“You shouldn’t go by yourself,” Fíli wheezed, squeezing his eyes shut as he moved his legs underneath him. “I’ll -”   
“You’re not going anywhere!” I snapped. “Look I won’t go far -”   
“No, you can’t!” Kíli reached out to grab my arm.   
“I must! He might need help too!” I shook my arm free and got to my feet, raising my hands to my mouth once again.   
“DWALIN!”   
No answer.   
I walked further towards the crumbled towers. Beyond me, Bilbo was waving to the approaching eagles.   
“DWALIN!”   
“HERE!”   
My heart leapt into my throat as I spotted the familiar large, bald head hobbling into view. He stepped up onto the walls of the broken tower. His axes were gone and he staggered slightly with exhaustion – even from the distance we were at I could see his huge shoulders heaving with tired breaths and his dagger held tightly in his hand.   
“I’m comin’!” he yelled down to us, his brash voice echoing sharply over the ice. He turned to jump down onto the steps below, running towards us as fast as the ice and his spent muscles would allow.    
“Hurry!” I shouted, taking a step back towards Kíli. As I began to turn back I spotted a small movement. Down amongst the fallen goblins bodies, a small object seemed to have risen up off the ground. I found myself looking at the point of an arrow, fitted to a crude metal crossbow, and from there my eyes drifted into the beady eyes of a crouched, wounded goblin. The arrow was pointing past me, to where Fíli and Kíli still crouched around Thorin, completely oblivious. The loud, metal clang of the bow string came far too soon. There was no time to warn them, only to step in front of them.

The impact to my chest hit hard and fast, like I was in the path of a charging bull. But instead of being thrown into the air I was frozen, rooted to the spot as if I’d been put under a spell.   
Time seemed to slow down: Dwalin’s furious roar echoed like a long lost sound on the wind and his dagger flew into my vision for a split second before burying itself in the goblin’s side; the breath left my chest in a heavy rush, taking with it the strength in my legs and I collapsed to my knees, barely hearing Kíli call my name; I was pulled back so I was staring at the sky which was glowing orange in the setting sun; The day was over; The battle was over; The eagles were here.   
In the distance I could hear my name being called over and over again, first by Dwalin, then Kíli…   
Kíli’s arms were wrapped around me, one arm cradling my head while the other pressed hard against my chest. The pressure made me gasp, and my lungs felt as if they’d caught fire, and I realised the metallic taste in my mouth was blood.   
“Vana! Vana, no! No, no, no, no, no, it’s alright. You’re alright.” Kíli was mumbling, his eyes wide and scared. I wanted to ask him why but when I opened my mouth to speak all that left my mouth was a groan, slightly gurgles by the alarming amount of blood in my mouth.   
“Ssh, love, it’s alright. Just lie still, I need to stop this bleeding.”   
I glanced down to find his gloved hand covered in blood, and it took me another few seconds to realise it was _my_ blood. He had closed his hand over the wound in which the shaft of the arrow was embedded, just below the centre of my chest, pressing as hard as he could but the blood was running hot and thick between his fingers.   
I whimpered slightly as the pain began to return, a slow burning through my chest, and lifted my gaze to Kíli’s. As soon as our eyes met tears began to stream down his face and he turned to shout behind him.   
“HELP! HELP ME PLEASE! DWALIN!”   
“Oh no,” Bilbo’s curly head appeared as he knelt beside me. “Vana, listen to me. Hold on, just hold on. The eagles are on their way.”   
_The eagles!_  
“Th-th-Thorin?” I managed to force out.   
“Thorin’s alive. He’s unconscious but alive.”   
“Don’t worry about him, my love,” Kíli said, turning back to face me.   
“F-Fíli?”   
“I’m right here, Vana,” a voice from somewhere to my right sounded but I couldn’t see him. Bilbo disappeared from my sight and I could hear him helping Fíli to come closer.   
“Vana!” Dwalin’s low growl reached me just before he did, collapsing to his knees next to me. “Sweet Mahal, lassie, what have yeh done to yerself?”   
“A-are – are you -?”  
“I’m fine lass, I’m fine. It’s _you_ we’re worried about!”   
“They’re – they’re all alive?” I choked out, trying to dislodge some of the blood from my mouth.   
“We’re all alive,” Kíli said, frowning as he tried to hold back his tears. His frown deepened even more when I smiled.   
“Good. That’s g-good. Th-though I didn’t s-see this com-ing.” I tried to force a laugh but it quickly dissolved into a cough. I suppressed a retch as I felt the blood pour over my lips and down my chin. The pain in my chest flared and Kíli put even more pressure on the wound.   
“Vana, ssh, please,” he whimpered, pressing his lips tightly together.   
“I k-kept my promise.” I whispered, lifting my hand to Kíli’s face. He leant against it and I frowned as I felt the warm tears on my fingertips.   
“Kee…it’s alright,” I managed to smile. “It’s over…you’re home…and you’re going to be…a wonderful…p-prince…”   
“Vana…”   
“You – you’ll have children,” I said, smiling more widely as the image filled my head; the little dark-haired girl in his arms and the tiny boy clinging to his leg. “They’ll be b-beautiful…I’ve seen it…”   
“No, Vana,” Kíli shook his head fiercely. “I can’t have any of that without you, I can’t live without you, please?” The last word came out in a choked sob. “Please amrâlimê, don’t leave me!”   
He wept, his beautiful brown eyes squeezed shut and I could feel some of his tears dripping onto my arm. The burning in my chest began to subside and I felt my limbs grow heavy. My hand slowly fell from his face, only to be caught by Dwalin, who held it tightly in shaking hands. I could hear sobbing all around me but I kept my eyes on Kíli. I needed to see those eyes again.   
“Kee…please…look at me…”   
Finally I was looking into those mahogany embers once again and I forced my eyes to stay open as he gazed at me…until the heaviness took over and with it blackness came, the burning was extinguished and suddenly I was weightless, a feather on the wind.

_ Kíli _

Kíli held his breath as her eyes slid shut, not daring to make a sound. He waited for her eyes to open, but they stayed shut and the movement of her chest beneath his hand stopped. He looked down at his hand covering the wound; the blood wasn’t running so freely anymore. He let out a strangled gasp, his gaze whipping back to her face, but she hadn’t moved.   
“No… No, no, no no…” he muttered that infernal word over and over again to no avail. Dwalin’s head was bowed over the hand he held so tightly in his huge fist, his giant shoulders heaving with sobs. On his other side Bilbo was holding up his brother, who was clutching at the hobbit as tears rolled down both their faces.   
_No!_ _They’re acting as if she’s dead! She can’t be dead!_  
“No, Vana, you can’t do this!” he barely recognised his own voice, broken by anguish. “You can’t leave me! You can’t die, you promised! You promised me, please love!”   
“Kee?” His brother called to him weakly but he only shook his head.   
“No, no, please...”   
“Kee, I’m sorry,” Fíli’s voice was heavily laden, his throat too constricted to speak without pain. “She’s…she’s gone.”   
“No, no, no…” Kíli pulled her closer against him, leaning down to press his forehead against hers. Her skin was still warm. “Please, Vana, please…”   
“Someone’s coming!”   
Kíli snapped up at his brother’s warning to see the two elves sprinting lithely across the ice, never slipping, as if they were running on grass.   
“Help! Help us please!” Kíli called desperately as they approached. Tauriel’s eyes were wide with shock whilst Legolas looked on with as much concern as Kíli believed he could ever see on that elf’s face. He focused on Tauriel as she knelt by them.   
“Please, can you save her?”   
“Kee,” Fíli protested hoarsely.   
“Please, Tauriel, please,” Kíli begged her with every fibre of his being. “You saved her before, please.”   
“I do not know what I can do…” she whispered, looking almost fearfully at him.   
“Please try?” His voice was so weakened he could barely hear himself. “Please? She’s everything to me.”   
Tauriel looked sympathetically at him before closing her eyes and sighing deeply. Slowly she opened her eyes and leant in towards Vana, her hand gently removing Kíli’s from the wound. Kíli obliged, holding Vana’s waist instead, while Tauriel closed her hand around the arrow.   
“Tauriel?” Legolas called to her warningly but she ignored him. She closed her eyes once more and in a movement so swift Kíli barely saw it, she pulled the shaft smoothly out of the wound, tossing it aside before pressing both hands firmly over Vana’s wound.   
She began to chant ferociously in rapid Elvish, her face contorting as if in pain.   
Kíli watched in awe as a soft glow seemed to emanate from Tauriel’s palms, surrounding Vana’s wound like a candle flame. For a matter of minutes Tauriel continued to chant, ignoring Legolas’ cries in Elvish, even as he ran to her side and grabbed her arms, as if to tear her hands away.   
“Get away from her!” Kíli growled, earning him a disdainful look from the elf.   
“You do not understand!” he hissed, before turning back to Tauriel and murmuring in Elvish again. To Kíli it looked as if he was pleading with her, but she either held fast with some incredible strength or another force held her there.   
Suddenly, without warning, Tauriel stopped mid-word and collapsed into Legolas’ arms. He held her tightly, dragging her slightly away from Vana.   
“What have you done, _mellon_?” he muttered, staring down at her with a fearful expression. Kíli watched as the glow slowly disappeared from Vana’s chest, melting inwards as if it was seeping into her body. The wound – as far as Kíli could see – was now closed.   
“Vana?” he whispered, hardly daring to breathe as he raised his hand to her face. His glove was covered in her blood and he used his teeth to pull it off roughly before he cupped her face in his free hand. Her skin wasn’t cold, at least not cold enough for death, he thought. “Vana? Please?”   
Then her chest moved.   
It was only the sheer exhaustion overcoming him that prevented him from shouting praises to the skies. Instead he let out a soft cry of relief, leaning in to rest his head gently on her chest. It rose steadily beneath his cheek and against her skin he could feel the faint, but distinct, drum of a heartbeat.   
“She’s alive!” he breathed, hardly daring to believe it. “She’s alive!”   
A low moan escaped Dwalin and he clutched Vana’s small hand to his chest, his eyes wide with shock, even as a small, relieved smile reached his lips.   
Kíli watched her chest move a few more times before his gaze moved back to her face. He stroked his thumb across her cheek, watching her eyes intently, willing them to open.   
Above his head, he could feel the rush of air as the eagles descended towards them, come to take them to safety.


	13. The Veil of Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

_ Kíli _

It had been twelve days now since the battle, and still Kíli sat by her bedside. She had not woken, nor given any sign that she was going to. The thought that he might be going mad did cross his mind from time to time, but ultimately he reminded himself that if he was indeed going mad he would be too mad to realise it.

Vana, Thorin, Fíli and Tauriel had all been unconscious when the eagles returned them to the fields outside of Dale. Space had been cleared for healing tents, occupied by Dwarves, Men and Elves alike. The Elven healers had gone straight to Tauriel and Legolas had immediately left, returning mere minutes later with his father and Gandalf. Thorin, Vana and Fíli had all been placed on stretchers, while Kíli and Bilbo sat between them, sharing frightened looks with each other as they tried to find healers for them.   
Gandalf had run immediately to Thorin’s side, calling sharply for a healer. Two human healers had answered his call. The first ran to Thorin at Gandalf’s orders, while the second came to Vana but was stopped by Thranduil.   
“No,” he had said in his cold, steady voice. “She must be seen by one of my own.”   
Affronted, but too intimidated to argue, the woman had then moved to Fíli and began examining his head.   
“What’s the meaning of this?” Kíli had demanded loudly placing himself between Vana and the Elf-king.   
“One of my soldiers used an Elvish spell in an attempt to heal her, a spell that is only designed to save the life of an Eldar. Only an Elf will hope to understand its effects on a mortal.”   
Kíli hadn’t liked the way he said ‘mortal’, or sneered might have been more appropriate, but he swallowed a retort when Legolas returned with an Elvish healer. The Elf-maid had long, thick, light brown hair and a kind face and she handled Vana with such gentle care. Kíli was reminded of the Elf-healer in Rivendell who had treated Vana and was put slightly more at ease. Still he kept an eye on Thranduil, who was eyeing Vana with curiosity and whispering in rapid Elvish to his son.   
Gandalf made his way around them all, murmuring spells under his breath and placing his hand over their wounds. He stopped Thorin’s bleeding while the human healer cleaned the wound in his gut, and healed the wound in Fíli’s side whilst his head was stitched.   
When he came to Kíli, the young prince only shook his head.   
“Go to her first,” he murmured, pointing at Vana, who looked only as if she were in the deepest of slumbers. “She needs you more than I do.”   
“There is not much I can do for her, Master Kíli,” Gandalf said sadly. “I’m not sure if there’s anything to be done.”   
“But Tauriel…” Kíli trailed off with trembling hands. “She…she saved her. She’s alive, her heart still beats.”   
“We will not know exactly what Tauriel has done until she tells us herself.”   
“And when will that be?” Thranduil asked the healer.   
“When she wakes, my lord,” the healer responded without looking at him, still inspecting Vana’s wound. “Whatever magic she used exhausted her. She requires much rest.”   
“Can you not tell us more?” Legolas frowned.   
“She may wake tomorrow, or the day after. As for her,” she looked concernedly down at Vana. “I have no idea. Her wound is closed and healed, though it will leave a scar. Her heart is strong and her breathing is steady, yet she does not wake.” She placed a hand on Vana’s head. “I do not understand it.”   
“Thank you, you are dismissed. Please return to us with Tauriel when she wakes.”   
The healer nodded and turned to leave but Kíli leapt to his feet and blocked her way.   
“You can’t just leave her!”   
“There is nothing else to be done, Master Dwarf,” Thranduil said in a bored voice.   
“THERE HAS TO BE!” Kíli yelled, unable to control himself any longer. “YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT HER! YOU LEFT HER TO DIE IN YOUR DUNGEONS -”   
“Kíli!”   
He jumped as the hobbit appeared at his side, his face contorted in an expression of rage that Kíli could never have imagined him capable of producing before.   
“Stop this! You can’t make all this racket in a healers’ tent. Vana wouldn’t thank you for it! You’re exhausted, you need to rest and get your leg seen to. So sit down, shut up and listen to the healers, or so help me I will tie you to a stretcher myself!”   
Kíli stared, dumbfounded at the hobbit, who was breathing heavily after his tirade. For a moment he wanted to punch his tiny face but his rage soon gave way to raw, heavy exhaustion and he found himself sighing loudly as he sank to the ground by Vana’s stretcher. He took her limp hand in his and raised it to his lips. Her skin was still warm, beneath the cold from the winter air, and he closed his eyes at the feel of her fingers in his, trying to imagine that she was really touching him, trying to comfort him.   
“Kíli?” Gandalf’s soft voice sounded from beside him. “Will you let me look at your leg now?”   
Wordlessly, Kíli shook his head.   
“Save your spells for those who need them. One of the healers can stich my leg.”   
“If you’re sure -”   
“I’ll do that laddie.”   
Kíli snapped his eyes open as he turned to see Óin standing in the opened flap of the tent, surrounded by the rest of the company. They were all dirty, blood-stained and exhausted but alive and relatively unharmed as far as he could see. His mouth hanging open, he nodded once more and Óin made his way over to him, kneeling beside him with a sombre expression on his face. Dwalin came in next, followed by his brother who looked worriedly to all four patients. The others filed in after them, each taking a seat at the back of the tent to stay out of the way.   
Bifur knelt at the foot of Thorin’s stretcher, looking from one patient to the next and Kíli noticed a deep indent in his head where his axe used to be. Bifur caught his eye and gave small smirk.   
“Gave it back to the orcs I did,” he uttered in a hoarse and Kíli couldn’t help but stare.   
Nori came limping in last, his arms clutched around Ori’s neck.   
“Caught the wrong end of an axe,” Nori said softly, nodding to his bandaged leg. “Would’ve been done for if it hadn’t been for him.” He grinned at Ori who only managed a brief curl of the lips as he stared sadly down at Vana.   
“What happened?” he whispered.  
 The breath in Kíli’s throat became rock solid as he turned back to Vana, his gaze moving to the wound in her chest. The healers had managed to cut away her clothes in such a way that her modesty was still preserved but the wound was glaring out at them, red and raw.   
“She saved us,” was all that Kíli could say. The lump in his throat proved too obstructive and he had to swallow hard to keep himself under control. He felt a hand grasp his shoulder and looked up into the teary eyes of Bofur, who attempted a reassuring smile and failed miserably. Kíli looked sharply away from him, trying to quell his own emotions, instead forcing himself to focus on the fact that Bofur’s hat was still miraculously perched, unharmed, on his head.

Fíli woke during the first night with no complaints other than a pounding headache. Any attempts he made to stand were quickly thwarted by Óin and the healers who threatened to tie him to the bed the fourth time he tried to move to Thorin’s side. 

Dáin Ironfoot had found them by the following morning, and immediately offered any assistance he could. It was only then that Kíli realised he was, in fact, in charge of the entire dwarven front, at least until his uncle or brother regained their strength. Despite Balin’s offer of help he couldn’t bring himself to face the responsibility and instead insisted that Dáin remain in charge. He knew it wasn’t procedure, but the mere thought of leaving Vana’s side was enough to make him feel physically ill. What if she needed him? What if she woke and he wasn’t there?   
Bombur brought him food and the others paid regular visits when they could. The plains outside were still rife with the dead and injured and every able body was required to start the clearance. A great fire was started to dispose of the orc bodies, and while it provided light and warmth for those on the eastern side of the camp, it also gave off a pungent smell of burning flesh that nobody found helpful.  
In the end, Kíli found himself grateful for his injured leg. It gave him an excuse to stay by her bedside. Dwalin, on the other hand, busied himself with the clearance, and seemed to find every excuse he could to steer clear of the tent in which his king, prince and daughter lay.

On the third day, Tauriel woke just after sunrise.  A few hours later she arrived at their tent looking pale and tired but otherwise unharmed.   
As soon as he saw her, Kíli leapt to his feet for the first time in hours, nearly keeling over as his legs went numb.   
“Please,” Tauriel said, raising a hand to silence him before he could speak. “Do not trouble yourself. How is she?”   
“She’s…” Kíli tailed off, looking down at Vana. Her chest rose and fell evenly but other than that she never moved. “She’s alive,” he finally said, turning to face Tauriel again. “Because of you.”   
Tauriel made no answer, instead she stepped forward, moving closer to them both.   
“May I?” she asked softly, gesturing at Vana and kneeling next to her only when Kíli nodded his consent. No sooner had he resumed his previous position that the tent flap flew open and Thranduil strode in, followed closely by Legolas, Gandalf and, to Kíli’s annoyance, Bard. The new King of Dale looked at Vana in horror before striding to her side, next to Tauriel and falling to his knees.   
“I only just heard,” he exclaimed in a hushed voice. “I came as soon as I could!” Thankfully he made no move to touch her – or Kíli felt he might have cut the bargeman’s hands off. He looked back over his shoulder to his brother, who had leant up on his elbows and was watching the whole scene with a careful expression. He caught Kíli's eye and gave him a knowing look.   
_Don’t cause trouble, little brother,_ it said.   
“Now,” Thranduil’s cool tone made Kíli turn back to face him, but the elf-king had eyes only for Tauriel. “Perhaps you can tell us exactly what happened?”   
Tauriel glanced at the elf-king before her gaze travelled back to the wound in Vana’s chest, which had been bound by one of the human healers the previous night.   
“I found them all on the ice,” Tauriel began in a calm voice. “She seemed already gone, but I was not entirely sure. I thought I could still sense some life left in her. I only thought to help. It was the only thing I could think of.”   
“What was?” Gandalf asked her. “What spell did you use?”   
“It was an old spell my mother told me about when I was very young. A prayer of sorts that can bring someone back from the brink of death.”   
“An Eldar who has passed from this realm,” Thranduil broke in. “Can sometimes be brought back if another Elf offers a sacrifice to the Valar – a share of their own immortal years for the one who has had theirs taken from them.”   
Kíli couldn’t help but gape at Tauriel at this revelation.   
“But such a spell can only be shared with an Eldar. It cannot be used on a mortal, whose own years are so limited.”   
“Evidently, my lord Thranduil, it can,” Gandalf retorted. “Miss Vana is not dead. Her wound has been healed, at least past the point where it is deadly.”   
“But she has not woken.”   
“Not yet,” Tauriel gave him a sharp look.   
“You cannot guarantee that she will.”   
“Are you saying…?” Kíli interrupted them, clearing his throat in an attempt to sound less hoarse. “Are you saying she may never wake up?”   
“That is as likely a course as any,” Thranduil answered flatly.   
“But it is not certain,” Bard said, looking up at Kíli briefly before turning to Thranduil. “There is also a chance that she will wake?”   
“A small one perhaps. But it is far more likely that she is suspended in a plane of existence she does not belong in. The Valar permit the choice of an elf to give up their immortality, but they do not accept a mere mortal to be -”   
“Don’t you dare call her that!” Kíli growled, glaring up at the elf. “She is not a ‘mere’ anything. She is my One.”   
“Nevertheless,” Thranduil retained his haughty composure under Kíli’s burning glare. “She is a mortal, and the Valar do not condone their precious gift being granted to one whose time in this world is limited.”   
“But Elves have been known to grant a second chance at life to mortals who are gravely injured or ill,” Fíli broke in, wincing as he tried to sit up. “Isn’t that what you did for my brother?” he asked Tauriel.   
She nodded but again, Thranduil broke in.   
“Your brother was not already dead.”   
“She is not dead!” Kíli snapped through gritted teeth. “Look at her! She breathes and her heartbeat is strong.”   
“She may not appear dead, but nor is she showing any signs of being truly alive.” Thranduil regarded Vana coolly before turning his gaze back to Tauriel. “It is far more likely that she was pulled from the Halls of Waiting where she should have passed into the next world and is now trapped in a limbo of mere existence; where she appears alive but cannot perceive us or the world around her. Cannot hear, see or speak; cannot even know she lives; in which case it may be far kinder to simply aid her passing.”   
It took all of Kíli’s strength of will not to leap at the elf and wrap his hand around his throat for such a speech. He was so angry, so utterly furious that he almost didn’t notice Bard leap to his feet while Tauriel, Gandalf, Fíli and even Legolas all gave Thranduil a look of utter contempt.   
“Tell me you are not suggesting what I think!” Bard hissed. “She is not a wounded animal to be put out of her misery!”  
“We are nowhere near the stage of such a decision yet,” Gandalf said sharply. “We still do not know exactly what sort of a condition Miss Vana is in. When I can I will contact Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien and Lord Elrond of Rivendell. They may have more information for us.”   
“And what do you suggest we do with her until then, Mithrandir?” Thranduil asked him. “Leave her to waste away in this tent?”   
“She will not waste away!” Kíli barked. “I will take care of her!”   
“And what of the other dwarves who are in need of aid? Will you forsake them a bed and care for someone who may be a lost cause?”   
“Don’t even try to pretend you care about my people,” Kíli snarled, gripping his uninjured leg with his free hand so he would not crush Vana’s hand. “We all know what you think of us ‘mere mortals’.”   
“Nonetheless, we should move her,” Gandalf said calmly. “It will give her the peace she needs to heal and the healers more space for their other patients.”   
“But where -?”   
“She can have my quarters.” Bard interrupted Kíli, earning him another look of contempt from the dark-haired prince. “The bastion in Dale is in relatively good condition. I will clean the rooms out myself and my daughters will be glad to look after her.”    
“Vana is part of the Longbeard clan,” Kíli told him, coldly. “She is part of a Dwarven family and wears Dwarven braids. She will stay with her people.”   
Bard opened his mouth as if to retort but seemed to think better of it under Kíli’s hard gaze.   
“But it’s very kind of you to offer,” came Fíli’s diplomatic reply.   
“The tents are still being put up as we speak,” Gandalf added. “I’m sure we can find somewhere.”

A tent had been constructed that day and Bofur, Bifur, Dori and Glóin had moved her into it. It was barely big enough to fit the stretcher and one or two others into it, but it was all that could be spared. Ori made sure there were blankets for her and Óin showed Kíli how to use a small cloth to drip water into her parted lips.   
“For now lad,” he said. “All we can do is keep her warm and give her water. She won’t be able to eat until she wakes.”   
He stayed only to check Kíli’s stitches before leaving to tend to the other wounded dwarves. Nori, whose injuries left him unable to stand, let alone walk around and offer assistance, offered to stay with Vana so Kíli could get some rest, but he gently refused, unable to bear the thought of leaving her.

The next day, the Elf-healer returned with Óin.   
“I just realised earlier,” Óin said to Kíli with a sheepish expression. “We haven’t checked her stitches for days. They’ll need to come out or they’ll get infected.”   
“I brought more of the balm you used,” the healer said, reaching into a bag at her side and pulling out a wooden jar.   
Too tired to speak, Kíli nodded and shot a pointed look at Nori.   
“Aye, I’ll just…” Nori nodded and turned himself around, using his hands to move his bandaged leg until his back was facing them.   
Kíli helped the healers turn Vana onto her front, turning her head gently so she was facing him. Óin showed him how to position her hands beneath her face to protect it from the ground and keep her nose and mouth from being blocked.   
He then arranged the blankets around her as the Elf removed the shirt from her back.   
He almost gagged when he saw her back; the skin was red and swollen around the stitched areas.   
“Why didn’t she say something?” Kíli hissed. “It must have been so painful.”   
“I don’t think it was like this before the battle, lad. She would have told us. But she’s been lying here for four days now. Her body’s defences are lowering.”   
“What do you mean?” Kíli asked hoarsely.   
“She can’t eat, she can’t keep herself moving, her body is running out of strength.”   
“You mean she’s dying?” he asked sharply, looking Óin in the eye, daring him to confirm it.   
“That’s not what I said,” the healer replied calmly. “But I’m afraid, if her condition doesn’t change, that is undoubtedly what will happen.”   
A thousand thoughts raged through Kíli’s mind as he turned back to look at her. The Elf was wordlessly inspecting her stitches, prodding them gently with her fingers.   
He wanted to scream, to cry, to punch Óin in the face, to wrap his arms around Vana and never let her go, to beg her not to die, to beg Mahal and any other god that would listen not to take her away, to curl up and die himself… The thoughts echoed around his mind faster and faster until they seemed to merge into one big fog, cancelling each other out. When he next spoke, his voice and face were blank of expression.   
“If we treat her infection,” he said. “She’ll have a better chance?”   
“Aye,” Óin nodded. “We can try.”   
“We have to try,” Nori chimed in, his back still facing all of them.   
“Can you treat it?” Kíli asked the Elf.   
“Yes,” she nodded. “But these stitches should have come out a week ago. I can take them out and get rid of the infection, but these scars will never fade completely.”   
“Please do what you can,” Óin said. “What can I do to help?”   
“Hand me my scalpel,” she requested and they set to work.   
Kíli watched as they went, his hand clenched into a fist in front of his face as he fought to keep his head quiet.   
_This isn’t supposed to be happening. We’re supposed to be restoring the kingdom, planning our wedding, planning our future.  
_ The scars on her back were raw and inflamed, and as the healer removed the stiches he could see far too clearly the raised ridges running down her back. And above them, on the back of her left shoulder, he could see the two round marks where the warg’s teeth had sunk in, and along her shoulder a part of the scar running from neck to arm – yet another reminder of what she had done to save him. _  
She’ll always have these scars. She’ll always have that pain. She’ll always remember that I couldn’t protect her.  
That’s if she even wakes up.   
_ Kíli suddenly found himself faced with the impossible; a future without her. It was like trying to imagine a future without light. He saw nothing down that road. He had seen dwarves who lost their Ones to sickness or battle, who lost their loves too early. They continued to exist, but never as they were. They seemed to fade slowly, always missing something, always yearning. Even his own mother, who he knew was only able to go on living after his father’s death because of her sons, was never completely whole.   
Was that what lay in store for him? To continue to merely exist until death finally welcomed him. Would he be forced to live another two centuries before that happened? Or would Mahal show him mercy and take him sooner, let him be with her again?   
Would Mahal let her rest in their Halls or would her soul have to rest elsewhere? With the souls of Men?   
Were there even Halls that they could go to? Were their souls truly eternally bound or did they die with the body?   
He was contemplating things he had never given a care to think about before. He was overwhelming himself with them, trying to find answers that he knew Dwarves, Men, Elves and even Wizards had spent thousands of years searching for.   
He didn’t speak again as the healers worked. He watched them remove her stiches, clean her wounds and apply the balm. He watched the healer work a soft spell over her skin, finally sealing her skin completely until she was left with long, and seemingly deep lines several shades darker than the rest of her skin stretching across her back.    
He watched the Elf gently put her shirt back on, slowly turn her on her back again. For the first time Kíli got to view the full extent of her injuries. Her ribs, waist and hips were littered with yellowing bruises, but the worst of all was the one on her stomach, huge and violent where Bolg had kicked her. The Elf-healer quickly refastened her shirt down to her chest where it had been cut away and rearrange the blankets to keep her covered.   
More bruises stretched around her throat from Bolg’s fingers, highlighting the scar from the warg bite even more where it began at the junction of her shoulder. Then, of course, there was the great, ugly mark in the centre of her chest, still angry and red, where the goblin arrow had nearly killed her – or actually killed her, Kíli was not yet completely sure which one it was. As well as these, her arms and her sides were covered in cuts and scrapes from the goblin skirmish, and when he and Óin helped the Elf remove her trousers he saw her legs were the same, but with several deeper gashes, more than seemed possible, and Kíli frowned hard at the sight.   
_How could she have been walking after this?_  
The Elf quickly applied more of the balm and put Vana’s trousers back on, all the while discussing quietly with Óin, though Kíli heard none of it. He vaguely heard them speak to him and he sort of noticed Nori turning back around.   
He thought perhaps Nori suggested, for the thousandth time, that he get some air, but whether or not he had, Kíli’s thoughts were the same:   
If these would be his last days with her, he could not leave her for a moment. Not unless he absolutely had to.

It was only when Bilbo came running the following evening to tell him Thorin was awake  that he got to his feet and, with one last promise from Nori not to leave her side, left the tent. He followed the hobbit back to Thorin and Fíli’s tent and entered to find Fíli sitting up – an act that defied most or all of the healers’ orders – and reaching towards Thorin as if to move towards him.   
“Oh no you don’t!” Bilbo snapped, bolting to the prince’s side and shoving him as gently but definitively as possible back onto his stretcher. “No sitting up, no standing, no walking around and definitely no leaping to your uncle’s side.”   
“Kíli?”   
Kíli immediately limped towards  him, a smile breaking over his face at the sight of his familiar piercing blue eyes. He knelt and reached for his uncle’s hand but his uncle grasped his forearm instead.   
“You’re alright?” Thorin croaked. Bilbo immediately went to fetch the water pitcher in the corner of the tent.   
“I’m fine, uncle, I’m fine. You’re the one who scared us all.”   
“I am sorry,” Thorin said hoarsely, turning to accept the cup of water from Bilbo. “Thank you,” he smiled softly at the hobbit as he lay back down. “Are you well Master Burglar?”   
“Am I -?” Bilbo blinked at him in shock. “ _Am I well_? The last time we spoke you were bidding me farewell after impaling yourself on an orc blade and you ask if I’m well?” He shook his head roughly, dumping the water jug unceremoniously on the ground.   
“I’m sorry, Bilbo,” Thorin said solemnly. “I’m so sorry for all of this.”   
“Uncle, please don’t apologise,” Fíli said, his teeth gritted as if in pain. “It’s over now.”   
“Fee, are you alright?” Kíli asked, speeding to his brother’s side. Fíli was propped up on one arm while the other clenched his side.   
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he shook his head dismissively. “These stitches aren’t comfortable is all.”   
“And that’s why the healers told you to _lie down!_ ” Bilbo snapped and Kíli helped him gently pull Fíli back. The older prince complied with a low growl.   
“Fíli? You’re hurt?” Thorin’s eyes widened and he attempted to lift himself onto his elbows.   
“Not you too!” Bilbo practically snarled, moving back to Thorin’s side and placing his hands firmly on his shoulders. “Confounded, stubborn dwarves! Both of you will lie still at once and not so much as blink until the healers say you can! Do you hear me?”   
Fíli only grunted, but Thorin, to Kíli’s surprise, obeyed without complaint.   
At that moment Dwalin appeared, looking as if he’d been running, followed closely by Balin.   
“We heard yeh were finally awake!” Dwalin exclaimed with a grin, rushing to his king’s side and gently grasping his forearm. “Yeh enjoy yer wee nap?”   
“You’re alright? What happened? I left you -”   
“Aye, think nothing of it,” Dwalin shook his head. “I tried to follow yeh but a few orcs got in my way. Our burglar has a keen eye and a good arm, managed to keep them from surroundin’ me.”   
“The others? The company and Dáin’s forces?”   
“The orcs have disbanded,” Balin told him. “Many of them ran back into their tunnels while others fled south. Dáin sustained significant losses, as did the Elf-king and Bard, but the company are all fine. Nori won’t be walking for a while but they’re all alive.”   
“And Vana?”   
Kíli’s gut twisted as her name passed Thorin’s lips and he determinedly looked away. A heavy silence fell over the tent, and out of the corner of his eyes Kíli saw Bilbo concentrating hard on folding a blanket.   
“She -” Balin’s voice faltered and Kíli looked up to find the old dwarf ducking his head. He had never seen him so lost for words before.   
“Thorin -” Dwalin tried next but failed miserably as the breath caught in his throat and his mouth clamped shut.   
“Kíli?”   
Kíli looked up to find Thorin looking at him so intently he felt as if ropes had coiled around his arms and legs, rooting him to the spot. His jaw was solid, keeping his lips fused together, but in his head Kíli was screaming.   
“Thorin she was injured,” Bilbo finally said. “Badly. We all thought her gone until the Elf captain, Tauriel, used some sort of spell. Now she’s asleep in another tent but we – well  we don’t know if she’s really – that is we don’t know when or even if she’ll wake…”   
Thorin’s eyes grew wide at the hobbit’s words, moving between them all in horror as if waiting to hear them contradicted.   
“But…she’s not dead?”   
Something in Kíli’s mind clicked at the word ‘dead’, something drawing him back to Vana’s words, only days ago – though it may as well have been a lifetime.   
_“How about the fact that when your uncle came to make me swear to keep you safe I agreed without hesitation? When I swore an oath to protect you and your family with everything I have? When I swore that I would die for you?”_  
“No,” Balin managed to say. “Well, not technically. None of us are very sure what’s happening exactly. Gandalf swears he will have answers for us soon.”   
“Thank Mahal,” Thorin sighed, his eyes closing briefly. “Then there’s still hope?”   
“Barely,” Kíli found himself saying, his tone harsh as his fixed his dark gaze on his uncle. Thorin turned to face him, his brow furrowing in confusion as Kíli got slowly to his feet. “I’m surprised you care.”   
“Kíli?” His brother grabbed for his arm but he shook it free, stalking towards his uncle.   
“You told her to do this,” he growled. “You told her she had to die for us if it came to it. You made her swear to it.”   
Kíli could never have told anyone the reactions of the others in the tent, he was only focused on Thorin, who swallowed hard, having the courtesy, at least, to look ashamed.   
“Kíli -”   
“You made her give an oath to protect us with her life. You knew she loved us enough, loved me enough that she would do it and you took advantage. _You did this to her!_ ”   
“Kíli I never meant -”   
“SHE WAS GOING TO BE MY WIFE!” Kíli exploded. “I WAS SUPPOSED TO PROTECT _HER_! AND SHE DIED IN MY ARMS BECAUSE OF YOU!”   
“Kíli, please -” Bilbo grabbed his arm, placing himself between him and Thorin. “This isn’t helping!”   
Kíli shook his arm free of the hobbit’s grip and pointed savagely at his uncle.   
“I will never, never forgive you for this Thorin. And if she doesn’t wake, I will never speak to you again.”   
With that, he stormed out of the tent, leaving everyone else to their horrified expressions.

He returned to her tent with fury blazing through his veins like dragon-fire. He wanted to fight something; he wanted to hurt, he wanted to scream, he wanted to run until his lungs begged for air; he wanted to run back to Thorin and throttle him.   
But as he stormed into the tent – with enough force to make Nori jump and instinctively draw a knife – all the rage melted away at the sight of his One. She looked so thin and frail where she lay and he had to bite down hard on his lower lip as the elf-king’s words echoed through his head.   
_“And what do you suggest we do with her? Leave her to waste away?”  
_ He sat back down on her bed, his body drooping in exhaustion. His eyes suddenly felt heavy and swollen, and he felt the overwhelming desire to sleep next to her, to lie with her and share some of the peace he could only hope she was having.   
_No,_ he told himself sharply in his head. _I cannot give up. She cannot give up.  
_ “I should leave you to it,” Nori said softly, picking up the warhammer he was currently using as walking stick and hauling himself to his feet. Kíli could only nod in thanks as he hobbled out of the tent, pausing only to turn and give Kíli a sad smile.   
“All of us would give anything for her to recover. I’ve never been a praying dwarf myself, but I haven’t lost hope. Neither should you.”   
Kíli squeezed his eyes shut; torn between appreciating Nori’s words and fighting the desire to hit him. It was ridiculous, completely uncalled for, but he couldn’t listen to any more words of comfort, or apology, or anything. He couldn’t bear to face anybody for fear of doing something he’d regret – or rather, something else. He didn’t relax until he heard the tent flap close after Nori. __  
When he opened his eyes he forgot about everything else. His only focus was the woman that lay before him. With a resolute sigh, he took her hand in his and lifted his other to her face, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb.  
“Come back, my love.” His hushed prayer felt so overused by this point, but he clung to it like the branch of a falling tree. “Come back to me.”   
He shuffled closer to her, lifting her hand to his lips briefly to press a kiss to her slim fingers before he spoke again. ****  
“I know you made your oath to Thorin. I know you swore to die for us. But you swore to me that if I don’t die, you won’t either. Well I’ve upheld my end of the bargain. I’m alive but I can’t live without you. So please, amrâlimê, fight with everything you have and return to me. I will never ask you for anything again if you will only come back to me now. Please, love, please…”   
His voice faded into silence though his lips kept moving. His eyes and throat burned with exhausted sobs as he held her hand tightly to his chest, as if willing her to feel his heart beating and reciprocate with her own.


	14. A New Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We came all this way,   
> And now comes the day,   
> To bid you farewell...

_ Fíli  _

It had been twelve days now. Twelve days since his brother and uncle almost died. Twelve days since Vana had been taken from them. Twelve days since he had failed.   
His head still hurt when he did certain things; standing up too fast, sitting down too fast, standing for too long, thinking for too long, sleeping too much, not sleeping enough; it seemed he couldn’t do anything without his head reminding him how much he had failed.   
He hadn’t been able to protect his brother, he hadn’t managed to save his uncle, he hadn’t even noticed that Vana was in danger until it was too late.   
Thorin was wrong. Fíli was nowhere near ready to be king.

When he woke up it was as if he’d been asleep for years. So much had changed in such a short period of time; Thorin had survived, thank Mahal, and Kíli was still walking and talking. Vana was comatose and growing thinner and more frail by the day. Dwalin was always working, Balin barely left Thorin’s side. Óin was busy with the healers while Glóin joined in the clearance of the orc bodies. Dori was even fussier now that Nori couldn’t walk without a crutch and Ori was uncharacteristically snappy. Bofur smiled less, Bifur spoke more and Bombur was just as focused on food. And Bilbo – well that hobbit was bossier than ever.   
When Thorin woke up, Fíli was still banned from moving. He had to lie on his stretcher until the stitches in his side healed, and until his head stopped spinning every time he tried to sit up. It was driving him insane.   
They moved Vana out and subsequently his brother, so he couldn’t even occupy himself with Kíli. His little brother had never needed him more and he was useless.   
On the twelfth day after the battle, Kíli was still at Vana’s bedside. He hadn’t spoken to Thorin in almost a week now, and by extension he hadn’t spoken to him either. But today his stitches were finally coming out. Today he could get out of this cursed tent.   
He could have kissed the healer that came to him in the morning, even with the pain she caused pulling his stitches out. Once she’d applied some of the Elvish balm and bandaged him up, he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. With a last sharp warning from both the healer and Bilbo not to over-exert himself, Fíli was finally able to step out of the tent.   
The harsh winter air was freezing on his skin and he wrapped his coat more tightly around him as he made his way through the campsite. He knew exactly where Vana’s tent was, having extracted the details from Bofur, and to there he was bound first.

He entered to find Kíli sitting cross-legged on the floor, one of Vana’s hands still clutched between his as he studied her face. She looked much the same as when Fíli last saw her, but thinner, much thinner. Her cheekbones and collar bone were much more prominent, and beneath the heap of blankets she appeared no more than a child. Her chest rose and fell steadily, and her eyes remained closed and unmoving, as in a deep sleep.   
It took Kíli a few seconds to realise he was no longer alone, to look up suddenly to see his brother gazing sadly down at him.   
“What are you doing here?” he asked Fíli, his voice hoarse from disuse.   
“Checking on you of course,” Fíli replied gently, taking a seat next to him.   
“Should you be walking about?” asked Kíli.   
“My stitches are out. My head’s much better. I’m fine, Kee.”   
“Already?” his brother frowned. “How long has it been.”   
“Twelve days.”   
“Twelve…” he repeated in a whisper, his gaze moving back to Vana. Fíli watched in sorrow as his brother’s face seemed to drain of expression.   
“Kee, when was the last time you ate?”   
“Last night,” Kíli replied automatically.   
“Is that the truth?”   
He didn’t answer. Fíli sighed inwardly before continuing as gently as he could.   
“You need to eat, Kee. You need to rest. Go and get some sleep, please? Vana wouldn’t want -”   
“Don’t tell me what Vana would want!” Kíli hissed. Fíli bit his lip slightly to keep from responding as Kíli continued, his face and voice filling with venom.   
“I know her better than any of you, and I know exactly what she would want. But there are two possibilities here; either she will wake up or I might be about to lose her forever. If the first, I can’t miss that. If the second… I won’t spend a spare moment away from her. Even if all I can do is hold her hand and wait.”   
Fíli stared at his little brother, watching the rage in his dark eyes dilute into unfiltered fatigue. His skin was pale, save the skin beneath his eyes which was dark with lack of sleep. Never in his whole life had the older prince seen his brother look so…defeated.   
Unable to think of anything to say, Fíli nodded briefly, getting back to his feet again. His mind whirred so fast that it began to hurt his head again as he tried desperately to come up with anything that could make his brother feel better.   
“I…I’m sorry Kee,” he said softly, cursing himself for failing, yet again. Kíli made no answer and Fíli couldn’t blame him. He left the tent feeling as if the entire day had passed by already, and the sun hadn’t even fully risen yet.

He returned to the tent to find Thorin awake and, miraculously, sitting up without Bilbo raging at his side. Instead, the hobbit was bringing him a cup of water and a bowl of cooked oats.   
“I’m sorry it’s not more, but it’s all that could be spared,” he said to Thorin.   
“It’s more than enough, Bilbo, thank you,” Thorin replied with a small smile.   
Clearing his throat, Fíli re-entered the tent and sat himself down next to Thorin’s stretcher.   
“Fíli,” Thorin’s smile grew wider. “You’re walking about?”   
“Aye,” he nodded. “I’ve just been to see Kíli.”   
“How is he?” Thorin asked in a quiet voice, his smile fading instantly. “And Vana?”   
“Vana’s much the same. Kíli…well he’s not doing so well.”   
“Of course not,” Thorin said, shaking his head and lowering his bowl to his lap.   
“Thorin,” Bilbo interrupted them. “I hate to sound like a nagging aunt, but if you don’t eat all of that I won’t hesitate to hold you down and spoon-feed you like a child.”   
If it weren’t for his thoughts being preoccupied with his brother Fíli would have burst out laughing at such a statement. From anybody else it would be insubordination of the highest order, but Thorin only looked at Bilbo with a vague, amused smile.   
“Yes, Master Burglar,” he muttered, dutifully eating a few spoonfuls before addressing Fíli again.   
“Is there anything that I can do for him?”   
“Not right now,” Fíli shook his head. “The best any of us can do is make sure he eats until Vana’s condition changes.”   
Thorin nodded and Fíli cleared his throat again before speaking.   
“I was hoping you could give me something to do. I’ve been going mad in this tent, and I know Dáin’s been taking care of the clear-up, but there must be something that I can do. As heir.”   
Thorin regarded him for a moment with an almost unreadable expression – a strange mix of relief and weariness. Then he nodded.   
“I need to speak with Dáin, and Bard and Thranduil. If you could send a message to them, I would be grateful. The wizard also, if you can find a way to reach him. I would speak with them all and I would have you there too. It’s time I started acting like a true king.”

A few hours later the three of them were gathered around Thorin’s bedside, along with Balin, Dwalin, Legolas and Gandalf.   
“It’s good to see your strength returning,” Bard said cordially to Thorin. Thranduil only gave an acknowledging nod, while Dáin glared the Elves and Man beside him.   
“Thank you,” Thorin said to Bard before addressing them all. “I have asked you here for three reasons. First, I want to express my utmost gratitude to you all for your aid in the battle, and your assistance afterwards. I understand that you all undertook significant losses, and rest assured your dead will be honoured along with our own.”   
Bard and Thranduil nodded solemnly, while Dáin took a step closer to his cousin.   
“The Iron Hills have long stood idle while the dragon slept. Yeh can be assured of our loyalty to our rightful kingdom once again.” He bowed low and Thorin nodded in acceptance.   
“Second,” he continued. “I want it to be known that I hold nothing but the deepest regret for my actions towards you both. The gold sickness was upon me, and I did not realise until it was too late. And so, in an attempt to make amends, I will grant you all a share of the treasure, so as we may move on from this terrible day and start anew.”   
His deep, azure gaze travelled between the three Lords and Fíli listened in amazement. Legolas and Thranduil exchanged an unreadable look, Dáin gaped at his king and Bard’s expression became a mix of relief and confusion. Eventually Thranduil spoke, his voice ever steady and calm, even as his icy gaze pierced any who fell under it.   
“My people have no love or need of treasure. But this I would request; the white gems of Lasgalen. I would have them returned to me.”   
Thorin stared blankly at the Elf-king for a moment before, to Fíli’s ever-growing surprise, he nodded.   
“As you wish.”   
“But, Thorin -” Dáin began but was silenced by Thorin’s raised hand.   
“There are enough gems in that mountain for all, cousin,” he said in a tired voice. “Those white gems have caused enough trouble than I care to think about. Let us part with them and bury old grudges.”   
_If only Âmad were here,_ Fíli thought to himself. _She’ll never believe this._  
“And for yourself, King Bard?” Thorin turned to the King of Dale, whose mouth then turned up in a small smile.   
“I would ask only what you promised before. A share of the treasure enough to rebuild our lives, to let us repair what we can of the city and re-establish trade once again. My people know much of hard work and not enough of leisure, but they will not be idle, I can assure you. Both of our kingdoms will profit from this.”   
“Profit is not my concern,” Thorin assured him. “And whatever help we can offer, consider it done. That brings me to my third and final reason.” He addressed them all once more.   
“For too long our people have fought each other, held grudges over the disagreements of our ancestors. I would put an end to all that. I would re-establish our old alliance, so that we may forever triumph in the face of our true enemies and stand together against the dark forces still at work in this land.”   
His speech left the entire tent silent and Fíli in awe of his uncle. Such diplomacy and grace he had rarely heard from any dwarf, especially towards an elf.   
Dáin was the first to speak.   
“Yeh’ll always have the loyalty of the Iron Hills, my king.” And he bowed low.   
“As long as your oaths are honoured,” Bard joined in, with a bow. “You can be assured that Dale will stand behind you.”   
“Thank you,” Thorin gave a low nod, unable to bow from his stretcher. Only Thranduil was left, and he exchanged a long look with his son, as if having a silent conversation the rest of them were not privy to, before finally turning back to Thorin.   
“The Woodland Realm will too stand with you, should your need arise. I promise you that.” With that, he pressed a hand to his heart before extending it to Thorin, who acknowledged it with a nod.   
“This alliance shall be made official as soon as Erebor is fit to receive you.”

Before they left, Thorin asked Balin to send ravens to the other dwarf kingdoms and Fíli asked if he could join him, and send a message to Dis. Balin, having refused to let Fíli even walk to the Mountain, let alone climb all those stairs to the raven’s roost, agreed to send one for him and Fíli managed to eventually find some parchment and ink from one of the healers and set down to write his message.   
Afterwards he returned to Kíli, bringing him some long overdue breakfast and a spare blanket. Entering the tent, he found Kíli exactly as he’d left him, sitting at Vana’s side and still clutching her hand.   
“Kíli,” he said softly. “It’s me. I’ve brought you some food.”   
“Thank you,” Kíli said flatly. “But I’m not hungry right now.”   
“Yes you are, you’re just not aware of it.” He set the food down next to his brother and took a seat beside him. “Eat it, Kíli. Please?”   
He didn’t move for a moment, still staring blankly down at Vana’s thin form, before he finally set her hand down at her side, placing it gently on the blankets as if it was made of glass, before taking up the bowl of oats and starting to eat.   
Fíli watched him for a few minutes before looking back to Vana, watching her breathe slowly and evenly. She made no other movement, and appeared so peaceful, he found himself wondering how Kíli had lasted so long without going mad.   
“I’ve written to Âmad,” he finally said, still looking at Vana. “I told her about the battle, and about Vana. I assured her the rest of us are fine, and she should start making arrangements to come here.”   
“I don’t want her to come here,” Kíli said suddenly. “She would be better remaining in the Blue Mountains.”   
“Why do you say that?” Fíli frowned at him. For the first time, Kíli looked round at his brother, and Fíli was shocked to see his brother’s eyes so…blank, so devoid of laughter and light and everything that made him Kíli.   
“This place is a battlefield, Fee,” Kíli said, his face growing dark as he spoke. “The Mountain is a tomb and Dale is a ruin. This quest was supposed to restore our kingdom, not bring about such death and despair. The dragon was supposed to be dead or gone, the Arkenstone was supposed to bring our people back together. All we’ve done is go from danger to danger and now so many have paid dearly for it.”   
“Kee,” Fíli interrupted gently, his throat thick with emotion at his brother’s words. “We all knew this quest was dangerous. We took that chance willingly when Thorin asked us if we would help. Vana included.”   
“He didn’t ask her,” Kíli growled. “She went to him and shouted at him until he let her come.”   
“She did?” He couldn’t deny that he was impressed. Vana was strong-minded but Thorin’s mind took nothing but the strongest of wills to change – or at least it used to.   
“Aye,” Kíli nodded. “She found out we were both going and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. I tried to make her stay, I told her I didn’t want her to come, but she wouldn’t believe me. She yelled at me until I broke and told her I loved her. Then later she asked me ‘How did you expect me to let you leave without me now that I know?’”   
“You never told me any of this before,” Fíli said, feeling tears suddenly well up in his eyes.   
“I never thought to,” Kíli replied, and when he looked away, he raised his head slightly and Fíli saw the beginnings of a smile on his face. “She kissed me for the first time that night and I forgot about everything else. I suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her behind. I wanted to share everything about the quest with her; I had this fantastic notion that she and I would enter Erebor together, when uncle opened the door, and discover our future. I thought this quest would be the start of our new lives.”   
He trailed off as his gaze fell back to her face, and he shoved his empty bowl aside before taking her hand again.   
“I never should have let her come.”   
His words were like a dagger in Fíli’s heart and he felt a tear escape his eye as he watched his brother’s smile falter once again. Slowly, he reached out to place a hand on his shoulder.   
“You can’t blame yourself, Kee,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “No one could have foreseen this.”   
Then Kíli frowned, his features creasing in concentration.   
“She didn’t see this coming.”   
“What?” It was Fíli’s turn to frown.   
“Don’t you remember? That’s what she said, when she… She said ‘I didn’t see this coming.’”   
“I don’t remember,” he shook his head sadly. “I don’t remember much after I was hit.”   
Kíli only nodded.   
Many long minutes of silence passed between them, until finally Kíli took a sudden breath, deep and shuddering.   
“What will I do if she doesn’t wake Fee?”   
The breath caught in Fíli’s throat as his brother’s emotions finally broke free; he began to shake, exhausted tears dripping down his cheeks as he clutched desperately at Vana’s lifeless hand. Fíli felt himself choke a little as he tried to force his voice to work, gripping his little brother’s shoulder tighter and leaning forward to press his forehead against his.   
“It’ll be hard,” he whispered. “It’ll be the worst pain you’ve ever felt, but I’ll be here. You can always rely on me Kee. I won’t leave your side, even when you try to make me.”   
He held Kíli to him as he wept, eventually wrapping his arms around him and not letting him go until Kíli had exhausted himself to sleep.

_ Kíli _

His dreams were a strange mix of reality and fantasy, his state a blurred line between wake and slumber. He wept into his brother’s shoulder until he was too tired to keep track, he vaguely remembered Fíli laying him down and covering him with a blanket, but he was also aware of Vana’s laughter filling his head, her singing, the smell of her hair and the feel of it running through his fingers; the smell of the mountain air and the thunder above their heads as the rain poured down, the sound of Daisy and Angus whinnying at each other as they raced through the meadow, the clash of their swords as they sparred.   
His head was a chaotic mess of random thoughts, none of which were clear to him. Though his eyes felt heavy and stayed shut, he was aware of what was happening around him. The cold wind entering in through the tent flap, the bustling of dwarves outside going about their morning, the ever present, if distant, stench of burnt orc flesh, the stirring of a hand that was not his own next to him -    
He jolted awake.   
For a moment he thought he must have dreamed it. Vana looked much the same, still peacefully asleep, until he caught sight of it again out of the corner of his eye, the smallest twitch of her finger.   
“Amrâlimë?” he gasped, hardly daring to believe it. He didn’t move, willed himself to stay frozen, as if any movement of his would break the spell. Then it happened again, and this time it was unmistakable; her hand moved in towards her side, and she breathed in and let out a soft moan.   
“My love?” he couldn’t help the grin that broke out across his face. “Mahal and all his glory, can it be true?” He reached for her hand, taking it in his and he thought his heart would burst when he felt a slight pressure in return.   
“Vana?” he whispered her name. “Vana, my love? Can you hear me?”   
She made the noise again, her head turning slightly towards him. He squeezed her hand gently and tried again.   
“It’s me, love, can you open your eyes?”   
He saw her forehead crease slightly, before slowly her eyes slid open. He had never been so overjoyed by the colour green in his life. They were just as he remembered, bright like evergreen leaves and surrounded by little golden flecks. He smiled so widely he felt the muscles in his face protest.   
“Vana!” he gasped, fresh tears following the dried marks left by his previous grief. “You’re awake! I can hardly believe it!”   
Her frown increased slightly and she opened her mouth as if to say something but all that came out was a hoarse gasp.   
“Water!” He dropped her hand and darted to the side of the tent where his forgotten water pitcher lay. He poured it into a cup and held it to her, placing a hand under her head to help her drink. She gulped it down at first, making herself choke and cough violently.   
“Slowly, love,” he said gently. “Or you’ll be sick.”   
Her coughing dispersed and she grabbed for the cup again, taking slower gulps. She finished and looked up at him, her frown returning. He refilled her cup and held it out to her again and she drank the whole thing in seconds. Placing it down she took a few deep breaths, lying back on the pillow with a hand on her head.   
“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, taking her hand in his again. “You scared me there, azyûngal.”  
“W-what? W-where…?” she rasped, her voice still hoarse as she looked around the tent and then to him. “Who’re you?”   
His smile faded at her question. She was looking at him as if she’d never seen him before, her eyes wide and blank.   
“Vana,” he said softly. “It’s me. It’s Kíli.”   
For a moment he thought he saw a brief flicker of recognition cross her face, but then she frowned.   
“What did you call me?”   
“Vana?” he answered, his confusion deepening when she shook her head slightly and pulled her hand out of his.   
“You have the wrong person. My name’s Cairi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...until our next meeting ;)


End file.
